In Another Life
by marana1
Summary: She walked over to the huge, full-length mirror. Staring back at her was an eleven-year-old Hermione Granger but with long, beautiful, silky, platinum blonde hair and pale skin. She ran her fingers through her hair, the reality of the situation sinking in. The fairy hadn't just made them switch places for a day, she sent them back in time and switched their lives. DM X HG. EWE.
1. Fairy Dust

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_**~ In Another Life ~**_

**_by:  
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**_marana1_**

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**Chapter 1 – Fairy Dust**

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Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling.

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"This is all your bloody fault, you know that?"

"_My_ fault?!" Hermione Granger growled, "_You're_ the one who started the taunts in the first place _and_ threw the first hex!"

"Still! It's all your fault. It's _always_ your fault, Granger!" sneered Draco Malfoy. "If you hadn't sent those stupid, loud, twittering birds of yours towards me, Vector wouldn't have heard us quarreling and we wouldn't be in this fucking mess!"

"I'm not just going to stand by, Malfoy, and let you degrade my friends and my family. If you haven't noticed, the War is over, and people like yourself, meaning the _entire Slytherin house_, need to build a bloody bridge and get over your stupid prejudices!" she hissed, her brown eyes pools of fire as she glared angrily at him. "You are not better than us! It's time to grow up!"

Merlin, Hermione was so sick of it. She had only been back in Hogwarts for a few months now and was already tired of fighting with Malfoy and his pure-blood cronies in Slytherin. She thought the end of the War would mark the end of all these stupid prejudices, but she was wrong. It seemed the War only exacerbated things.

The pure-blood families associated with the Dark Lord became outcasts and the heroic families, such as the Weasleys, who were on the side of the Order of the Phoenix, became huge celebrities after the War. They were now the top families in the Wizarding World and were worshiped. Naturally, the pure-bloods were completely out of their element. Most had been fired on the grounds of crimes committed during the War and almost all families were forced to turn to their Gringotts accounts to survive. Even though Hermione was sure they had more than enough money to feed themselves for the next couple hundred years, it still incensed them.

On top of this, the general animosity towards Slytherins was heightened this year. After everything that happened last year during the War, the other Houses no longer disliked Slytherin. They completely _hated_ the House. Their attendance was so low – only three people were brave enough to come back this year – that McGonagall had to force all seventh years to return.

Unfortunately, that meant Draco Malfoy, the Greengrass sisters, Zabini, Parkinson, and Goyle were made to come back as well as many others.

Although they cut back on their insults – Parkinson entirely, which was a nice relief – they still taunted her and most everybody about nonsensical things, frequently using the idea that everyone else was _so obviously_ beneath them. With tensions so high this year, everyone was on edge and trying to recover. The last thing they needed were Slytherins going around and making it worse.

Since most of the school was against them, they stuck together even more now and aggravated the situation by reverting back to rude words and callousness.

To Hermione, it was honestly only a matter of time until the dam broke and an all out war started between the Snakes and the other Houses. Hermione already couldn't control herself just this past hour with Malfoy and she had been enduring their insults, especially his, for almost seven years. It was frightening how easily she gave in to the urge to kick his arse. Even though he started it, she knew she should have just walked away. She was Head Girl this year for crying out loud! She should _not_ be getting detention and acting like a child!

She hoped the Headmistress knew what she was doing when she forced everyone back this year. McGonagall had said there was "serious reconciliation needed between the Houses" and, by forcing everyone back, it seemed she hoped they would become closer and get over past issues and animosity. Hermione wasn't sure if McGonagall knew how much the Slytherins were hated by the rest of Hogwarts this year, but she had faith in her former Head of House. However, if McGonagall really went into this blind, the rest of the year was going to be, quite literally, hell.

"Oh shut up!" Draco yelled, rounding on her as they left the castle, "I laid back on the mud-blood insults, didn't I? It doesn't mean I'm going to automatically start sitting next to you and your stupid boyfriends every morning and spread sunshine."

"Excuse me?" shot back Hermione, angrily, "We do not 'spread sunshine' every morning and Ron and Harry are not my boyfriends!"

_Well, only one of them for sure isn't… I'm not too sure about the other…_

"Do I look like I even give a fuck, Granger?" snarled Malfoy, crossing his arms as they stormed towards the Forbidden Forest. "Either way, they're both complete idiots. Especially my _dearest_ Weaselbee. Whether you all spread sunshine every morning and shack up with each other every night, it will not take away from the simple fact that they are both utter morons."

"You are such a foul, loathsome–"

"–Evil little cockroach?" he ended, smirking, "Yeah, yeah, so I've heard. However, one would think you'd come up with a more colorful vocabulary. It's always the same thing over and over… 'Evil Malfoy is a cockroach!' 'Evil Malfoy is a bigot!' 'Evil Malfoy is so sexy!'"

Hermione frowned, her face contorting into one of disgust.

"I do not call you sexy, Malfoy. I think you're sorely mistaken. Don't flatter yourself. That must be your little bed-buddy, Pansy. Although, what she sees in you is _beyond_–"

"Don't talk about Pansy like that," he yelled, cutting her off as he glared at her angrily. His grey eyes turned intense. "She hasn't said one cruel word to you this year, don't you go bringing her into this. She has had to deal with enough already. I'm not dating her, nor will I ever in the future, so shut up."

"Oh look!" said Hermione dramatically, sarcasm laced in every word, "You have feelings, Malfoy. What a _surprise_!"

* * *

After another twenty minutes of bickering over which direction to take at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the two finally decided on going Hermione's way.

"I swear to Merlin," she hissed, storming to Draco until they were nose to nose, having had enough of his pathetic reasons to choose his direction. "I will punch you so hard, you won't be able to see through your right eye for _days_ unless we go my way."

He swallowed visibly, obviously remembering their wonderful encounter back in third year when she slapped him.

"Pomfrey can just reduce the swelling," he bit back.

Her eyes narrowed sinisterly.

"But, we can go your way," he added quickly.

She gave him a sardonic little smile.

"If you insist."

* * *

"I say we call a truce."

Malfoy stared at her as if she just grew three heads.

"Wh-What?" he stuttered.

"A truce," she repeated, determination in her eyes. "We've only been in here for an hour, but I feel like we need to do this now."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"What if I don't want to make a truce with a mere commoner?"

Hermione snorted, choosing to pretend like she didn't hear the 'commoner' part of his statement.

"Sorry, Malfoy, but I don't want to be killed because of our bickering."

"It's inevitable."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"How is our death inevita–"

"Not our death, you idiot!" he snapped, his grey eyes flashing, "Our arguments."

"What?" she shot back, "You can't manage to stop your taunting for a few hours?"

"Not only that…" Malfoy trailed off before looking at her once again, "It's creepy… us being civilized. It's not right…" he shuddered.

She rolled her eyes.

"What field are you planning on entering next year?"

"Er–what?"

"What field? As in, Ministry-wise?"

He frowned, "And why in the blazes do you need to know that?"

"Gods, Malfoy," she snapped, "Just answer the question!"

He rolled his eyes.

"Since you asked _so_ nicely," he sneered, "and this is assuming I'm actually hired, I'll be going into Law Enforcement."

Hermione cursed under her breath. Of _course_ he was going into Law Enforcement.

"Why?"

"Er, no reason. I just wanted–"

He let out a long suffering sigh.

"You're going into that too, aren't you?"

"I was planning on it, yes… but seeing as you are as well, I think I'll change my profession and stay in the Magical Creatures department. I doubt we'll _ever_ get alon–"

"You were planning on going on to Magical Cre–Merlin."

He burst out laughing.

"Of course! I should have realized. You and your ridiculous _stew_ ideas!"

"It is not _stew,_ it is _S.P.E.W_!" she corrected angrily, "And for your information, I have big plans. Elves _will_ be given compensation and money and holidays–"

"Merlin, this is rich!" he guffawed, tears coming from his eyes as he doubled over, "You're basing your career on creatures that are fucking terrified of you!"

She took a deep breath, counting to ten in her head to calm herself down.

_Killing Malfoy will do you no good. You will just get sent to Azkaban. Killing Malfoy will do you no good. Killing Malfoy will do you no good._

After she was sure she was calm, she crossed her arms over her chest and watched as Malfoy composed himself.

"Truce?" she bit out, clenching her jaw.

"You–"

"_TRUCE_?" she bellowed, cutting him off.

He jumped, not expecting her to cut him off so loudly. Hermione closed her eyes, her right hand outstretched, still trying to keep herself from hexing him. She just needed patience. He'd pull himself together eventually.

When nothing happened, and she was sure she was in control of her anger, she opened her eyes to see him leaning against a tree and smirking at her.

"Sure, let's call a truce. I wouldn't want to get in the way of this wonderful elf stew you're cooking by having you die. I will _relish_ watching you fail, Granger."

Hermione's lips twitched as she held back a quick, angry retort. Merlin, being civilized towards him was going to be very, _very_ hard.

In two strides, he was in front of her and grasped her hand tentatively before giving it a quick shake.

"Damn," he muttered, "Now I have to _Scourgify_ 'lesser-being' germs off my hands."

"Damn," she imitated him, her fury showing through her words, "Now I have to _Scourgify_ _Death Eater_ germs off my hands. Disgusti–"

Before she knew what happened, she was thrown against a tree roughly. She shrunk back when she saw the intensity in Draco's eyes and the fury on his face. Her eyes widened in fright. She was not expecting him to lash out so violently. It looked like she'd hit a sore spot.

"I am _not_ a fucking Death Eater," he sneered coldly, his eyes glittering orbs of hate, "And don't you _dare_ call me one ever again. You have no idea what the fuck I've been through."

She opened her mouth, but he silenced her.

"No, shut your mouth, Granger," he snarled viciously, "You think you and your precious little Potter and Weasley have been through hell? Well, try living under my roof with an insane aunt and the fucking _Dark Lord_ breathing down your back every day and let's see how far you'd go to save your own skin and that of your family's."

Hermione doubted she'd ever resort to what he did. She would have found another way. There were _always_ options. Always. However, she was smart enough, being roughly shoved against a tree, to not voice her thoughts. Placating Malfoy was now number one on her list of things to do. She had seen him angry, but never to this extent. It scared her. On top of this, she had this eerie feeling… like they were being watched by something. Since they were both in the Forbidden Forest, she was positive they actually _were_ being watched by something. She needed to get him to stop so they could move on.

"Malfoy, I und–"

"No, damn it, you don't!" He slammed a hand against the tree loudly, causing her to jump and gasp in fright. "None of you ever will, so _stop saying that_. I know what you all think. All of us in Slytherin do. 'Oh'," he imitated, his grey eyes dark, "They had other options! They could have left or turned to the Order', well _too fucking bad_. When you live with the Dark Lord, you have no options. You and everyone else just look at us like we had a choice. Well, guess what, Granger," he leaned in, sneering hatefully, "None of us did. Have any of us ever pretended like we were proud of what we got?"

Hermione kept her mouth shut, knowing it was a rhetorical question. Frozen to the spot, her eyes were wide and filled with fear. Goosebumps broke out on her flesh and she found it hard to breathe as the feeling of being watched intensified.

"Maybe in the beginning," he continued coldly, unaware, "But the novelty always wore off after the first few days. Seeing your arm bleed for the first few months after getting the Mark tends to do that to a person. Imagine, Granger," he leaned in, his lips by her ear.

She shivered, unsure of what exactly was going on.

"Imagine seeing your arm bleed around the Dark Mark. Imagine feeling it burn in complete agony. The Cruciatus Curse, trained right on that one spot. Unfortunately, you can't stop the bleeding magically or the pain. You can only try to clot the blood to stop the flow. Then, of course, it barely scabs over before the wound reopens again the next time he calls. As for the pain, you can only wait until it subsides. Imagine feeling that," he whispered, "…_every single fucking day for a month_. Oh wait," he drew back, "you can't. You _can't even imagine_."

"Yet," he continued on, his voice filled with fury, "That doesn't even cover it. You have the emotional stress, the threat of failure looming over your head, the realization that your family could _die_ if you don't do what the Dark Lord says," his voice cracked and she could hear the pain.

There was a moment of silence. Hermione held her breath.

"Mal–"

"And, yet," he cut her off, his voice stronger once again and full of fury, "you all have the _audacity_ to say you 'understand' to our faces and in the Prophet and at ceremonies, but behind closed doors, chide us and mock us and _hate_ us for our supposed lack of strength and our weakness." His eyes were molten silver and full of wild emotion, "Well, _mud-blood_," she winced, "in my opinion, doing something you hate… enduring pain the way we have these past two years just for the sake of our _family_… now that's _real_ strength. And you call us heartless…" he let out a cold laugh. "If only you knew. If only you knew the shit we've all had to go through this past year. But, of course," he finally backed away, his hands raised in defeat, "you don't. You only recognize _your_ pain. Ours, according to all of you, was never really there. We are, after all, cold, emotionless bastards."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She was speechless.

There was another moment of silence.

"It's always about all of you," he sneered, his grey eyes flashing, "What about us? Where's _our_ justice? _Our_ story? Sure, Potter gave my mother and father his word and exempted them from Azkaban, but what about Pansy and her parents? Blaise and his mother? Theo's father and the hell he's had to endure? Goyle's loss? The ruins of the Greengrass estate, finances, and the death of Hyperion? Any of that ring a bell? No? Don't worry," he spat bitterly when she didn't respond, "I wouldn't expect it to. You're all hypocrites. You say you care for the welfare of the entire Wizarding world, yet you cover up what we've been through. You've destroyed our lives, destroyed our families and our names and haven't given a damn. You've willingly sacked every last one of us. So, please excuse me," he added sarcastically, his grey eyes flashing, "when I, and the rest of my house, don't fall over ourselves to greet you and your fucking _shitty_ friends every morning. We're still picking ourselves back up, and by the looks of it, it will take awhile, if ever. The Dark Lord may have started this mess, but you all added to it after the War. There will _never_ be peace unless you all accept the fact that not everything was peachy-keen on the dark side like you all believe it was. There will _never_ be peace until you all move on and try to forgive and forget what you all _think_ happened and stop pretending like we no longer exist because we do. Simply put: our lives were fucking hell. Every single day. You think the Dark Lord terrorized _you_? _Try living and working under him_," he snarled.

Draco's chest was heaving by the time he was through, his hands in fists at his side, and Hermione was still watching him, her eyes wide at what she'd heard.

It was so much information. _So much_. She had never heard Malfoy, or any other Slytherin for that matter, speak about such personal things and so passionately as well. They were all extremely tight-lipped about their lives. Was what Malfoy said all true? Maybe some of it.

_He was probably exaggerating most parts, though._

She refused to believe the Ministry was covering up so many things about the pure-blood families.

"Well, Granger? Has your disturbingly ugly little cat got your tongue?" he asked cruelly.

"You're not the only ones who suffered through hell, Malfoy," she said quietly.

He threw his hands up in the air.

"Oh sure. Go ahead, _go right ahead_. Start your little speech. I'm sure it's been building for awhile now, am I correct? I'm sure you're wondering in that brain of yours, how much of what I said is true and how much is a lie and you know what?" he asked furiously, "That's one of the reasons why it will never happen. We'll never get peace. You'll never believe us, you'll continue to outcast us, much like you're doing now, and mark my words, another fucking Dark Lord will pop up and spread destruction and ruin and no one will be able to stop him."

"I was tortured in your house!" Hermione yelled, anger building. Whether said anger was directed at Malfoy or her lack of trust in him and the truth of his words, she wasn't sure. "I know what it's like, Malfoy. I know! I had to bloody _Obliviate–_"

She swallowed, cutting herself off as moisture suddenly flooded her eyes.

"I had to _Obliviate_ my parents," she finally whispered. Hermione leaned against a tree, her voice cracking, "I spent the past few months searching after the War… I can't… I can't find them…"

She took in a huge breath, her eyes fixed firmly on a tree to the right of Malfoy. She was afraid to look at him, unsure of what she'd see.

"I think… I think they're…"

She stopped talking then, the tears spilling over and down her cheeks.

_If they are… _

Hermione shook her head, unable to allow herself to think about the fate of her parents. They were still alive. They _had_ to be. She did everything she could to keep them safe.

"I watched as people died. Your aunt… she carved…"

Hermione stopped talking, one of her hands slowly finding its way under the arm of her shirt. She had done this so many times and each and every time she hoped she wouldn't feel the same scarred skin spelling out her heritage. It was no different now. As her hands slowly caressed the familiar scar, she swallowed thickly, tears falling once again. No matter how much she wished she could get over it, and no matter how much she told people she had, she really never could. She had been judged for the past seven years on that alone – the fact that she was a muggle-born witch, a _mud-blood_. Everyone expected her to fail right from the start. She had, of course, proved them wrong, but still. What she wouldn't give to just have it not matter or to change it sometimes – to see how different life would be as a pure-blood or even a half-blood. Bellatrix had done such a number on her head…

"You're not the only one, Granger," Malfoy said after awhile, his voice surprisingly gentle, "I just wish you all would see how much worse it was for us–"

She looked at him suddenly, brushing the tears away angrily.

"For you?" she whispered incredulously, her brown eyes filling with fire, "_We_ were the ones who had our families killed! _Us_. Mud-bloods and muggles and half-bloods and blood-traitors. So, do excuse me, when I say that we had it worse off. We, the famous Golden Trio, were on the run. No food, no shelter, no safety, no allies, _nothing_. Just ourselves and, even then… we couldn't really rely on that."

She thought back to Ron's lapse in judgment and the big fight with Harry that made him leave during their search for the horcruxes.

Hermione took a deep breath as she watched Malfoy's face harden instantly.

"Walk a fucking mile in my shoes, Granger. You wouldn't last a bloody _day_, I promise you."

She walked up to him angrily, "Same goes for you, Malfoy. _I_ promise _you_."

Suddenly, an odd feeling washed over her and she stepped away from him, dazed, as she tried to get a grip on her surroundings. It seemed Malfoy had the same problem because he was holding on to the nearest tree, his head in his hands.

_What's happening?!_

"M-Malfo–"

"_Is that an agreement I hear?" _said a whimsical, female voice.

Hermione turned, trying to find the voice's owner as she fought to get a hold of herself, her wand grasped tightly in her hand. She twirled a few times, growing dizzy, before seeing a light over by a pond maybe twenty, thirty feet away.

"Who… who's there?" asked Malfoy wearily, his back against the tree trunk and his wand up and pointed at the pond.

A light, tinkling laugh rang out and Hermione shivered.

"_You should know, shouldn't you, Draco Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger? After all, you have been searching for one of us…"_

Hermione's eyes widened with sudden realization. She knew.

"Fucking hell," she heard Draco whisper, terrified.

"_You needed fairy dust, am I correct?" _

Hermione's mouth dropped as the light by the pond grew until it was bright, like an overly large Patronus. She shielded her eyes, as did Malfoy.

After a few moments, the light died down and she looked over at the pond once more to see a beautiful fairy with long, blue hair, light blue skin and bright, cerulean eyes. She was floating in the air, her blinding, white wings fluttering, yet it seemed as though she was walking on some invisible path towards them.

They were both paralyzed, entranced by the sheer beauty of the fairy.

"How did you know?" asked Malfoy, amazed.

"_Isn't that your punishment, young ones? Collecting ingredients for potions for the next week every night?"_

"I…" Hermione was at a loss of words.

Another tinkling laugh echoed through the darkness.

"_I shall take that as a yes, Hermione."_

Her throat grew dry, and unable to formulate any words, Hermione just nodded in response.

"_See… I would give you my dust… but I actually have another idea."_

Hermione didn't like the sound of this. The fairy's blue eyes were twinkling knowingly between the two. It reminded her a lot of Dumbledore and she felt a painful pang of sadness in her chest.

"_My Hermione, you recognized my presence earlier. To see two young ones bicker over such a petty thing as blood and lineage… it pains me. We have already lost so much life from this war."_

The fairy sounded sad and Hermione had the urge to apologize wholeheartedly. Malfoy beat her to it.

"We apologize, your grace," said Malfoy, devotion in every word.

The fairy smiled almost lovingly at Malfoy, and Hermione stared at him in shock. She'd never heard him apologize, _ever_. When he did, it was usually because he was being sardonic, but that didn't count.

"_My dear Draco, unfortunately, I already have my mind set. I'm sure you already have an inkling. I can see it in your silver eyes. I wish you both all the best. I hope you find what you're looking for, and once you have fulfilled your promises, all will be well."_

Hermione looked over at Draco who grew pale.

"But, your grace!" interjected Hermione, her voice shaking as fear took root, "W-What do you mean?"

The fairy winked at her and slowly faded. Panic overwhelmed Hermione, and she got up and ran towards her.

Just as she thought she had a hand on her leg, the light faded altogether and she was left in darkness once more.

A warm, unnatural breeze caressed her, and Hermione knew at once that it was the fairy. She felt her knees buckle, and her eyes swam as everything spun. Frowning, she gasped for air as black spots popped up in her vision, trying hard to call out for help.

She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard faint, tinkling laughter.

Just as Hermione was about to go under, she heard the same whimsical voice of the fairy whisper to her one last time, her voice soothing and melodic.

"_Don't worry, young ones. Trust in me…"_

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**This plot bunny has literally been on my mind for a year. **I first came to fanfiction July 6th, 2011 and this idea popped into my mind a few weeks after. I wasn't sure if a plot like this ever came up, where Draco and Hermione go back in time and assume the other's life (not body-swapping). I've been meaning to write this out for the longest time, if only to get it out there. Is this too crazy for all of you? If you don't understand what exactly I mean with the whole life switcheroo, stick around. The next chapter is the actual switch... that is... if you all review enough to get me to write it :)**  
**

_Question: What time period do you think the two will warp back to?_

Please do **_favorite/alert/review!_**

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___****____**Tumblr: potterston**_

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___****__Twitter: ****__mnadzz_  



	2. In Another Life

**Chapter 2 - In Another Life**

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Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling.

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"Hermione."

Hermione groaned, turning around in her bed and gripping the pillow tightly. She tried to get her bearings, but failed miserably. Why was she at home? Was yesterday a terrible dream? Why did her body feel… off?

"Hermione."

It must have been a dream, she decided, otherwise she wouldn't be back home. Wait… if she was back home… that meant she found her parents! When did she miss that?!

"Hermione! Wake up, darling!"

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she lurched upright, looking into the face of her mother.

She gasped, crawling away quickly.

The woman by her bed was most definitely _not_ her mother. The woman by her bed was _Narcissa Malfoy._

The beautiful woman rolled her blue eyes.

"Darling, what are you doing? Come on, it's time. Today we're going shopping for school supplies, remember? You have your first day at Hogwarts in just a week!"

Hermione's eyes widened comically and she looked around the room, suddenly realizing she wasn't in Hogwarts or at her house. She was in some foreign room, in the middle of Merlin knew where, next to Narcissa Malfoy. After all, everyone knew Malfoy Manor was Unplottable.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" asked the woman, frowning.

She turned her attention back to Malfoy's mother before deciding that this must be some elaborate joke. There was no way she was in Malfoy Manor and there was no way Narcissa was talking to her with such love and kindness in her voice. Malfoy must have put her up to it. Who would make their mother do something like this? She couldn't believe Narcissa was actually going along with it.

"I see right through this," she said, her voice coming out strong, "Draco put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Draco? What are you talking about? Who is… darling, are you unwell?" Narcissa frowned even more, the expression marring the perfect beauty of her face. "Shall I call for your father? Perhaps we can take you to a healer–"

Hermione's eyes widened even more. Call for _Lucius Malfoy_? Was Draco mad?!

"NO! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!" Hermione shrieked.

Narcissa looked taken aback at her outburst, her eyes widening.

She needed to get away and fast. Once she found the ferret… oh boy…

_I will kick his bloody arse!_

"Just… no! Stop, Narcissa! Just stop. This isn't funny–"

She looked around desperately for her wand, but couldn't find it. Fear rose in her chest when she realized she didn't have it.

_What happened to my __**wand**__?!_

"Hermione Lucius Malfoy, how dare you take up that tone of voice with me and call me by my first name!" Narcissa admonished, getting up from her place on the bed, her expression stern.

Hermione shrunk back immediately, all thoughts of her wand going out the window. The woman sure had a temper.

"You will get up and make yourself presentable within the hour or I will call for your father and you _will_ be punished."

With that, the Malfoy matriarch spun around, her blond hair flowing behind her back beautifully, and swept out of the room.

Hermione stared open-mouthed.

_Hermione __**Lucius **__**Malfoy**__? What the bloody hell?!_

Suddenly an eerie, whimsical laugh sounded right by her ear.

Hermione gasped, turning around in her bed, trying to find the speaker. When she only came face-to-face with her bed's headboard, the events of last night suddenly came to the forefront of her mind. Was this the _fairy's_ idea? To play a joke on Malfoy and herself by making them wake up in each other's beds? And what was this hogwash about Hogwarts starting in a week? They were already three months into the term!

_What does this mean?_

Goosebumps found their way along her arms as the fairy's parting words echoed through her mind. There was more to it than just this. Fairies were smart, conniving creatures. There _had_ to be more to this. A catch of some sort.

Feeling the urge to look at herself in a mirror, Hermione searched the room for one. Taking in the room, she sighed dreamily. It was beautiful – marble flooring, high ceilings, French doors, and a huge bed surrounded by an expensive-looking canopy. Everything was in soft shades of silver and green.

Finally locating a mirror, she crawled over to the end of the bed. The same feeling washed over her – the feeling that there was something different about her body. She frowned before swinging her feet off the bed. She gasped.

_Why are my legs so small? _

Her eyes widened and panic took root. She had a hunch as to what was really going on, but she prayed she was wrong.

Her stomach churning, she padded quietly over to the huge, full-length mirror in a corner of the room.

She screamed.

Staring back at her was an eleven-year-old Hermione Granger, but with long, beautiful, silky platinum blond hair and paler-than-normal skin.

She ran her fingers through her hair, the reality of the situation sinking in.

The fairy hadn't just made them switch places for a day…

She sent them back in time and switched their _lives_.

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth in horror and a painful sob escaped her throat.

* * *

Draco knew what was going on. He wasn't an idiot. As soon as the fairy popped up and started talking about an 'idea' of hers, Draco had a feeling it would be something like this. However, what he wasn't expecting was the time switch.

He was staring at himself in the mirror in what he could only suppose was Granger's house. It wasn't too bad at all, if he were to be honest. It seemed her parents actually made a good amount of money. The room was spacious, large and more modern than Malfoy Manor, but nowhere near as large or elegant. He also preferred his manor's much… darker beauty. Being home to a pure-blood family immersed in the Dark Arts, the house was shaded in darker colors ranging from a deep, hunter green to the purest black. He missed it already.

When he woke up this morning in a foreign bed, in a foreign room, in a foreign house, he already deduced what was going on.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the physical change. He was so much smaller and looked exactly like he did when he was eleven. There was just one _slight_ difference.

His hair.

He was accustomed to his usual silky, platinum locks, so waking up this morning and seeing himself with soft, chocolate brown and wavy, messy hair had startled him a bit.

Alright… so maybe he screamed.

_But who wouldn't? _He thought.

On top of this, his skin wasn't as pale… it was more tan; sun-kissed almost. He looked quite different, save his eyes.

He thought to Granger and wondered how she was taking the switch. If he remembered correctly, those were the years his mother used to wake him up every morning. No doubt she'd already gotten the scare of her life. She probably didn't even know what the fuck was going on.

He sneered. She deserved it after their argument yesterday.

That brought him back to his current situation. How would they find their way out of this mess? They were warped back in time by fairy magic. He wasn't too sure how exactly that worked. The brunet gulped.

Would they even be able to go back to the future and to their original lives? Was it possible?

"_Once you have fulfilled your promises, all will be well…"_

He thought back to the words of the fairy and relaxed a bit, his hands fiddling with his hair. It _was_ possible for them to go back to their time. They just needed to figure out what exactly the fairy had meant for them by bringing them back to the beginning of their first year at Hogwarts. He had an inkling that it had something to do with their quarrel and the last words they said to each other before she appeared.

Everything suddenly clicked.

"Draco, honey!" called a feminine voice from downstairs, startling him, "Breakfast is ready, come on! We need to get a move on!"

Draco froze.

_Fuck, I have to deal with Granger's parents!_

Well, technically, in this life, they were _his_ parents. What the fuck was he supposed to say? To do?

A sudden wave of longing for his mother and her breathtaking smile washed through him and he felt the familiar pangs of depression. She and his father were his _world_. No matter what his father had put him through, he was still his father.

Draco had always put his father on a pedestal from a very young age. Lucius Malfoy was charming and considerate when in the right company – meaning close family or friends – yet knew how to put up the proper cold, detached, and authoritative front when dealing with others which Draco so admired. Although that idea of Lucius being the most powerful man in the world diminished as the War continued, it showed that he made mistakes. His father – the man he adored and revered all of his life – had made a mistake. And now, he was paying for it, dearly. The Malfoy finances were at an all-time low – much of it used by the Dark Lord and almost half of it given to the Ministry as an apology for their war crimes, despite Potter's influence – and the Malfoy name was tarnished. The name his father had instilled in him was the _best_ since he could remember was now one of the _worst_.

Draco had been furious at Lucius throughout the War and even afterward for practically begging him to take the Mark before his sixth year and for not standing up for him when the Dark Lord thrust upon him the impossible assignment of killing Dumbledore. However, he couldn't stay mad at him for long. Lucius wanted the chance to reconnect with his son and, despite everything, Draco loved him. How could he not? He'd looked up to him not only as a father, but as a role-model. They had been so close when he was younger. Now, they were finally re-kindling their father-son relationship and Draco had finally started to get back to normal, albeit slowly. How would he be able to continue on through the stupid fairy's game without being able to contact Lucius or his mother, Narcissa?

Suddenly, the images of his friends flashed through his mind and the hole inside his heart grew. He'd be seeing them this year, but he wouldn't be able to even _talk_ to them.

Pansy, Blaise, Theo…

He even missed Daphne and his soon-to-be fiancée, shrewd Astoria, and _that_ was saying something. In the aftermath of the War, they had all become extremely close. Even Goyle had changed – whether it was for the better or the worse, Draco wasn't sure – after Crabbe's death.

_But Dumbledore's alive! _He suddenly realized, hope springing in his chest, _If Granger and I can find him and talk to him, maybe he can help us!_

Suddenly, everything didn't seem so bleak anymore. Draco, turned away from the mirror, refusing to let himself wallow in despair. If his father taught him anything, it was that Malfoys always got what they wanted – regardless of the means.

Draco would do anything to get back to his parents and his friends, even if it meant being civilized to Granger or drinking tea, chatting, and eating fucking jellybeans with Dumbledore.

* * *

Hermione walked quickly out of the room after washing her face thoroughly and erasing all signs of her meltdown this morning. Closing the door behind her, she felt unsure of herself as she regarded the corridor, fiddling with the hem of her dress. It seemed even the Malfoy girls were forced to wear all black at all times. She was dressed in a short, rather cute, black dress which offset her paler-than-normal skin and complimentary hair quite nicely. It gave her an almost ethereal glow.

She looked around the hallway, which was much darker than her room, trying to figure out which way took her to the dining room. Her stomach did little flip flops. She'd be coming face-to-face with Lucius Malfoy later this morning.

She felt the sudden urge to vomit and run as far away as possible. She couldn't believe this was happening to her.

Hermione idly wondered how Malfoy was taking all of this, especially the physical changes. If she assumed his white-blond hair and pale complexion, he must be tanner and have her brown hair. She paused, trying to picture it, but found she couldn't. It was too unnatural.

Before she could turn tail and flee, an unfamiliar voice called out to her.

"Hey 'Mione, what's wrong?"

She turned to see Draco Malfoy standing beside her, frowning at her unusual behavior.

She jumped in fright.

"Draco?" she asked cautiously, "Is that you?"

The boy frowned.

"Mum wasn't lying when she said you were acting strange. I thought maybe you were just joking with her…" he trailed off, "And who is this 'Draco' you keep talking about? I don't know any 'Draco's in any of the pure-blood families. Are you sure you're not sick, 'Mione?"

She cleared her throat, still in shock. It seemed in this life she had a brother who looked exactly like Draco Malfoy, save the nose and chin. Taking time to study him, it seemed this Malfoy's nose was a little smaller, and he had a cute little butt-chin.

"Of course. I'm fine."

She forced a quick smile.

"I was just joking with you guys," she replied, trying to sound playful rather than in pain.

He relaxed then, and smiled. She was taken aback. If this was how young Draco looked when he smiled, he should have done it more often.

"You're always joking around with us, 'Mione. I swear… one day, I'm going to get you back."

She forced a small smile. How was it she had a brother? Draco was an only child… that much she knew. Why was it different for her?

"Right…"

"C'mon, let's go to breakfast before mother throws a fit."

She nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way.

The mini-Draco started walking to her right and she made a mental note to memorize where he was taking her. She thanked Merlin he saw her when he did, otherwise she would have been roaming endlessly through Malfoy Manor.

As they left the corridor, they entered another long hallway adorned with frames every foot. Hermione looked around, noting the distinct color change. The walls seemed to be covered with a ruby-red tapestry, and two dim, yet breath-taking chandeliers, provided the only source of light. Hermione stared up in wonder. It was the entire Malfoy line – the wives _and_ husbands. They all smirked or smiled at her, depending upon the gender. A few even asked her how she was. It was surprising. For some reason, she was expecting them to lash out at her with whispered comments of "mud-blood" under their breath or flat out shouting like Sirius's mother's portrait. The blonde shuddered when she thought of the cruel, vile woman and the words she'd said.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when they finally left the room. It was too much – seeing the portraits all regard her like one of their own when she really wasn't. It made this weird alternate life seem even more real than it already was.

While changing into her clothes this morning, she had decided upon finding Draco on the train when school started so she could talk to him and tell him that speaking to Dumbledore was their best option in this situation. Fairy magic was dangerous and, at times, binding. If Dumbledore couldn't find a way out of this for them, then they'd have to sort out the fairy's intent themselves and figure out what exactly would break this alternate universe and send them back to their original lives and time.

Merlin, she hoped Dumbledore would believe their story and help them find a way around this. She couldn't bear trying to figure out what the fairy wanted from her and Draco before allowing them to return to their original lives. It was complicated, that much she knew. Fairies, according to what she'd read, were extremely temperamental and particular. No doubt this curse would be the same. How long would she be stuck like this? As Hermione Lucius Malfoy? How long would Draco be stuck as Draco Jean Granger? There had to be a way out. There _had_ to be.

"Good Morning Hermione, Oberon," said a familiar, but deeper, velvety, drawling voice.

Hermione's eyes widened.

_Oberon?_

That must be the name of her brother. She took in a deep breath, preparing herself for the worst, before looking up and meeting the familiar grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. She was taken aback by the pride she found within them. He looked exactly the same as he always had – his long blond hair was perfect and he was adorned in all black and silver. She wondered absent-mindedly if he tried to look arrogant or if it just came naturally because he sure as hell was doing a good job.

"'Morning… Lu–f-father," she said weakly, inwardly cringing at her almost screw-up, before hesitantly making her way to the ornate dining table. She, once again, marveled at the beauty of the Manor as she found her seat opposite her brother.

There was silence as breakfast started, immediately appearing before them much like Hogwarts. The only sound was the soft clicking of tableware scraping against the plate. Hermione continued to get more anxious as time wore on until her hands were shaking, and she was forced to sit on one of them to stop it. She felt a pang of sadness. She missed her mother and her father. There was _never_ tension and silence at the dining table. They always knew how to lighten up the air and joke around. She knew she would never find that with the Malfoys.

"Your mother," murmured Lucius conversationally, his eyes flickering from the Prophet to Hermione's for a split second, "told me you were playing some joke on her this morning?"

Hermione's heart stopped beating. This was it. She was going to be yelled at, maybe even screamed at.

She swallowed convulsively, hoping she didn't look as frightened as she felt. She couldn't believe she had to call this man, no, this _Death Eater_, 'father'. Just the thought made her shudder in revulsion. Her real father was so much better than he would ever be.

"F-Father, I didn't mean–"

"All I'm saying is," he cut her off, folding the Prophet and putting it next to his plate, "_try_ to think it through more carefully and let me join in next time. It's been far too long since I've pulled a proper prank because of your mother and–"

"Lucius!"

He smirked, looking away from Hermione, who was shocked, and into the eyes of his wife.

"Yes, dear?"

"Do not simply urge her on! I was afraid–"

He merely rolled his eyes.

Hermione was waiting for someone to jump out behind one of the large vases in the room and scream that this was a joke and that the man to her left, in fact, was _not_ Lucius Malfoy, but some other light-hearted joker with a sense of humor. When nothing happened, she felt light-headed.

"Darling, you're always fretting about the two. Let them have their fun while they still can. Once they're in Hogwarts, they'll have to start thinking about their futures. Hermione only has a week until she has to focus on her studies. Let her have her fun."

"B-But Lucius–"

"No 'but's. Besides," he added slyly, "if I remember correctly, you had _quite_ an affinity for pranks back during our Hogwarts days. What was her name again?" his face scrunched in thought, "Fray, Fana, Fay–"

Oberon smirked.

"Well _mother_," he drawled, his grey eyes lighting up mischievously, "I had no idea you were such a trouble-maker."

"Farah. Farah Blishwick," Narcissa replied curtly, after giving her son a look, "That stupid girl should have known better than to steal my favorite necklace, especially knowing it was a gift from Bella."

The light-hearted mood shifted drastically for Hermione as she stiffened at the mention of Narcissa's psychotic sister and fought to keep calm. Her hand absentmindedly went once more to her scar and she touched the skin, sighing. Realizing how exposed her arm was now in all these girly dresses, she came to the conclusion that she would have to start using glamour charms every day to keep it hidden. Merlin knew what type of hell would break loose if Narcissa or Lucius saw it. The questions, and then the fury, would be endless.

Narcissa looked at Lucius for a few moments – who was smirking, his face back behind the Prophet – before her face turned curious.

"What has you in such a good mood today?"

Lucius looked up from the paper at her, his expression changing, before his eyes rested on Hermione.

"My daughter is finally growing up, Cissy. Isn't that enough to make me happy? I couldn't be prouder of her."

Hermione blushed profusely before looking down at her plate, unable to believe what was going on. Lucius Malfoy was _joking around_? He was _proud_ of her? He wasn't being cold and hostile? What had the world come to?! Had he always been like this when Draco was younger? Or was he like this because he now had a daughter? She knew men usually had a sweet spot for their daughters. Maybe that was why Lucius was acting so… well… sweet.

She was suddenly looking at the Malfoys in a new light. It was disturbing. They had _feelings_. Weird.

Narcissa smiled.

"Fine, darling. I'll allow you to be soft only this once," she sent him a wink, "After that, make sure you do something despicable. Then you'll be back to normal."

"Cissy!" he exclaimed, his grey eyes flashing with incredulity, "I am not being soft–"

"Yes you are, father," cut in Oberon who was hiding behind his hand, trying to hide his laughter.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at his son which made him stop immediately.

"Oberon, you're my son. I thought I raised you properly enough so far to know that you _should_ be siding with me–"

"Hermione, dear," cut in Narcissa, her eyes flickering to her daughter, "I swear, you've turned this cold man into quite a softie. You should have seen the day you were born. I had never seen him grin so widely. It was mildly disturbing–"

"Cissy," warned Lucius.

"–and then of course, a year and a half later, we got our little 'Ron," she paused and looked lovingly over at Oberon who grinned happily at her smile, "and your father felt the need to be a tough man again to–"

"Cissy!" exclaimed Lucius, finally cutting her off, aggravated, "Our son's name is 'Oberon' not '_Ron'_!"

She gave him a smirk, her eyes twinkling.

"Of course, darling."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears.

* * *

Draco found himself actually enjoying his breakfast with the Grangers. It freaked him out. They reminded him so much of his own mother and father and the way they used to banter and joke around when he was younger. After third year, the playful conversations and love slowly dissipated with the return of the Dark Lord. Lucius had been involved with the Dark Lord since the attack at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before his fourth year, and ever since then, his parents' relationship suffered immensely. Draco hadn't known what was going on during his fourth year when he witnessed the tension between his parents and ended up finding out about it later.

He welcomed the love and warmth at the Granger's dining room table with open arms. Merlin knows he hadn't seen such emotion in awhile. Although he would never admit it, they were actually okay… for muggles.

Draco also found himself surprised with the amount of appliances they owned. How said appliances worked was beyond him. It was almost… key word _almost_… quite ingenious. Whatever this electricity thing was, he could admit it did work wonders.

"So, son," started Arthur Granger, Granger's father, "when did you want to go to this Dragon Alley and get your books?"

Draco cringed at the mispronunciation of Diagon Alley, but before he could correct Arthur, Jean stepped in.

"It's D_ia_gon Alley, darling, not D_ra_gon Alley," she emphasized, giving him a quick pat on the arm.

Draco stared at them. Now he knew where Granger got her quirk for correcting peoples' spell pronunciation. Her correction of "it's Levi_o_sa, not Levios_a_" had gotten around the school quite fast back in their first year and had provided a bit of entertainment for Draco back then. It was hilarious imagining Weasel's face turning red as a beet after being chided by a muggle-born girl who was so obviously better than him – a pure-blooded wizard – at everything.

"Well this Diagon Alley, then. What do you say, Drake?"

The boy in question almost choked when he heard the nickname. He was _never_ called Drake. He made sure of it during first year after everyone heard Pansy calling him by that name. No one except Pansy was allowed to use it. They'd known each other since they were five, so she had the right. He would have allowed Blaise the honor as well since they'd known each other since they were eight and were tutored together, but the Italian preferred 'Draco' anyway. That or 'ferret'. The bloody bastard never let him live down his short transformation back in fourth year.

The formerly blond Slytherin swallowed the toast he had been chewing carefully, making sure it didn't go down the wrong pipe, before nodding quickly.

"Of course, father," he replied smoothly, "Today sounds fine to me."

"Wonderful," smiled Jean, "I'll get ready and we'll leave in a half hour."

Draco nodded and flashed her a wary smile before she excused herself from the table. If he remembered correctly, today was the same day Lucius took him to Diagon Alley those seven years ago as well. That meant Granger would probably be in Diagon Alley today. Now he'd just have to find her.

_I wonder where she'll be…_

He smirked. It was almost too easy.

Flourish & Blotts.

* * *

Hermione bit her lip anxiously as she, Oberon, Narcissa, and Lucius all strolled through Diagon Alley.

_Everyone_ was staring.

She had almost forgotten how much power the Malfoys held back before Voldemort's demise. It was a bit unnerving.

Lucius was strolling next to her on her left, holding his signature black cane and wearing his black leather gloves, looking as regal and arrogant as ever. He nodded indifferently as people went past giving him respectful dips of their head. She felt so awkward and out of place. She'd never been treated like this – like she was royalty. Did no one notice her discomfort at all?

"Antonia!" Narcissa suddenly exclaimed, a wide smile on her face.

"Cissy!" chided Lucius, "Don't shout so–"

"Oh stop, Lucius," she brushed him off, "You know we haven't seen her in _such_ a long time–"

He let out a long-suffering sigh.

Hermione cracked a small smile. The dynamic between Lucius and Narcissa was hilarious at times.

A beautiful woman was approaching Narcissa now, her arms outstretched with a blinding smile on her face.

"Narcissa, it has been too long!"

She had long, flowing black hair, high cheekbones, dark, cat-like eyes, rimmed with numerous lashes, and a fair complexion.

The two women hugged.

"Lucius!" exclaimed Antonia, "It is wonderful to see you again."

Lucius smiled charmingly, "Same to you, Antonia. I–we," he corrected himself, pulling Narcissa closer to him and wrapping an arm around her waist, "are very sorry for your loss."

The smile on Antonia's face disappeared. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Narcissa moved and held her hand discreetly. Antonia shot her a sad smile.

"Thank you, I just wish you could have been there for the ceremony. His family insisted on it being private. I know how close you and Alessandro were, Lucius. I apologize for that. I couldn't deny his family's wishes."

Lucius gave her a nod and waved his hand.

"It's not a problem, Antonia. We understand."

She flashed them both a smile before shaking her head a bit and taking a deep breath.

"Anyway, are you all here for school shopping for Hermione as well?" she asked, looking at Hermione now. "My my, she sure has grown this past summer."

She shot Hermione a smile which she returned weakly, a light blush covering her cheeks.

Narcissa drew her close and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. Hermione stiffened in shock. This family never ceased to leave her speechless.

"Thank you. The same goes for your son."

"Where is he, anyway?" wondered Antonia, looking around. After a few moments, her face cleared. "Blaise!" she called out, "Come over here, remember Hermione?"

A young, dark-skinned boy looked up in response before walking over from the outside display in front of Eeylop's Owl Emporium.

He gave his mother a quick smile before turning to Hermione.

"Of course, mum," he rolled his eyes, "How could I forget? Hey, Hermione," he smiled at her, flashing his white teeth.

Hermione clenched her jaw tightly to keep her mouth from dropping open in shock. Blaise… as in Blaise _Zabini_? Antonia was his _mother_? Looking between the two now, she could see the similarities. Blaise had her eyes and facial structure. His dark skin and hair must have come from his father who was noticeably absent. She frowned wondering where he was before the pieces fell together.

Alessandro – the man Antonia was talking about earlier – was his father. She felt a wave of pity.

_Poor Blaise._

"Er–he–hey," she stuttered, blushing when she realized they were all waiting for her to respond. She fiddled with the cloak over her dress even more, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

A strange glint came into Lucius's eyes and he turned to Antonia.

"Antonia, if you don't mind, could we have a word?" he asked politely.

She gave him a nod, "Of course, Lucius, what is it?"

He turned from her to the children.

"Oberon, Hermione, Blaise, why don't you three all go over to Flourish & Blotts for a while? We'll catch up with you in a moment."

Hermione frowned, a bit suspicious, but nodded and left, her hand firmly clasped in Oberon's. Although she'd only known the boy for a few hours, she'd already felt protective of him, regardless of the fact that they were only a year and a half apart. Anyway, technically, she was much older. Besides, Lucius was stricter with him and she had an irrational fear that that would change the boy's sweet and playful nature. She wondered if that was what happened with Malfoy.

Oberon made a little whine in the back of his throat.

"'Mione, I can walk without you–"

"I don't care," she responded, holding his hand tighter, "You're my brother. I don't want you to get lost."

"We've been to Diagon Alley numerous times," he muttered, scowling, "Besides, I'm not eight anymore! I'm almost ten."

She smiled, rolling her eyes.

"How could I have forgotten, 'Ron?"

She had to say, she actually liked the nickname. The fact that it pissed off Lucius a bit only added to her love of it, she supposed. Besides, it also reminded her of Ron.

He just scowled.

"So, Hermione, how have things been?" asked Blaise suddenly, making her jump.

She had forgotten he was there.

He saw her reaction and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry if I freaked you out."

"Oh, uh no, you, uh–you're fine, Blaise. You were just so quiet, I forgot you were there," she gave him a sheepish smile.

He pretended to be scandalized.

"How could you forget? I'm a pretty memorable and unforgettable person. Just ask anyone."

"Ha ha," she replied sardonically, elbowing him in the gut with her left arm while Oberon rolled his eyes, "You think you're so intelligent."

He smirked in response.

"Duh, Ms. Daft."

It surprised her how easily they chatted as they walked to Flourish & Blotts. She felt so at ease with Blaise and Oberon. He was so unlike his other Slytherin friends and Oberon was, well, Oberon. He was adorable. For the first time today, she felt relaxed.

It was ridiculously crowded inside the store and Hermione's hand clasped Oberon's tightly. The boy was already quite curious. She didn't want him getting lost.

"Have you already gotten your books?" asked Blaise as they walked up the first flight of steps.

She gave him a quick nod.

"What about yourself?"

He nodded as well.

"I guess that means we can browse around. What are you favorite books, Hermione?"

"Well…" she trailed off, thinking. "I love transfiguration and charms."

"Alright, let's go to the fourth level; I'm pretty sure those books are all up there."

They traveled quickly up the steps, squeezing their way around people, trying not to get crushed. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief when they finally made it to the fourth level. It was much less crowded here. She, Blaise, and Oberon eventually split, agreeing to look in different sections of the floor, pick up books they liked, and to then meet back up in the middle afterwards to compare. Hermione slowly browsed the books, a small smile on her face. Books never failed to make her happy and take her mind off things.

Just as she was rounding the corner, having found three books already that she thought were interesting, a hand slid around her waist and over her mouth and pulled her against a body. She screamed, dropping the books in shock, but the sound was blocked by the hand on her mouth. She bit down hard and the assailant growled, drawing their hand back before pushing her into the book case roughly.

She looked up after catching her balance, her brown eyes wide with fright, before locking eyes with a cute boy with sun-kissed skin, wavy, brown, messy hair and familiar silver eyes.

_Malfoy?_ She thought incredulously. _So that's how he looks with my brown hair!_

"Merlin," she breathed, trying to catch her breath, "Malfoy, you didn't have to scare me by ambushing me like that!"

He shrugged, smirking.

"I love freaking you out. Next time, however, don't bite me. It's kinky," he paused giving her a lewd wink, "but I'm not in the mood because of our current predicament."

She slapped him hard on the arm.

"OW!" he said, unnecessarily loud, "I was _kidding_, woman!"

She looked at him strangely, "No, you weren't. You just love being ridiculously perverted and feel the need to tack on a 'just kidding' when I don't swoon over your prick-like behavior. Merlin knows which girl in her right mind would, anyway," she added, rolling her eyes, "And secondly, you have the _weirdest_ interests. Seriously, why would you like freaking someone else out? But anyway, I am, unfortunately, _so_ happy to see you."

A smile lit up her face. She found Malfoy. Now they could finally sort this out!

_How wonderful!_

He rolled his eyes.

"Firstly, if you're going to joke around, might as well bring out the sexual innuendos. Otherwise it's no fun. Secondly, _many_ girls have swooned over my _extremely suave_ behavior. Thirdly, I'm a Malfoy. Fourthly, you being happy to see me is quite a first, Granger. However, you should probably calm down. I understand my presence may get you all hot and bothered, but I _am_ only eleve–OW!"

She smacked him upside the head.

"Why is it that only filthy things come out of your mouth?" she questioned, mildly irritated.

He shrugged, rubbing the side of his head.

"It's in my nature."

"EEEH!" she imitated a buzzer, her brown eyes flashing, "Wrong answer, just like all your other explanations for your idiotic behavior! Seriously? 'I'm a Malfoy'," she imitated, her voice suddenly dropping a few octaves, "What kind of bloody excuse is _that_?"

Malfoy just rolled his eyes again and said nothing on the matter, shooting her another smirk and changing the subject.

"So, I was thinking about this extremely unfortunately predicament and came to the conclusion that only–"

"–Dumbledore can possibly help us, yes I know," Hermione finished, crossing her arms, "The only issue is whether he'll believe us enough–"

"–to actually take us seriously and look into it. Yes," he added in a high-pitched imitation of her voice, "I know."

"Can you ever take anything seriously?" she asked, irritated once again.

"Nope."

"Good," she grumbled under her breath, "Now that _that's_ settled…"

"Hmm? What?"

"Nothing," she replied innocently.

Draco narrowed his eyes, "Sure."

She smiled back sweetly before responding, "So, how shall we meet up to talk to Dumbledore? After the Great Feast?"

"Sounds like a good enough time to me. After all, we don't need to take a tour of Hogwarts. I'm sure we both know it like the back of our hands by now."

"Very true," Hermione agreed before slumping against the bookshelf in relief as she pushed a bit of her platinum hair out of her eyes.

She was happy to finally get everything sorted and squared away with Malfoy. It felt like a load was off her shoulders. She knew exactly what she needed to do and _finally_ had a small bit of control over the situation. It calmed her and focused her. If she was a druggie, control was her Xanax.

"Thank Merlin you found me, Malfoy," she muttered, her brown eyes finding his, "I was stressing out so much about this. Shall we call a truce?" she offered, hopefully, "At least until we talk with Dumbledore?"

He looked thoughtful for a second before agreeing reluctantly.

"Fine," he mumbled grudgingly, "We'll call it a truce."

They nodded and shook hands quickly.

There was a moment of silence.

"I still hate you, though," Hermione added, feeling the sudden need to clarify that their civil nature as of now didn't change anything between them.

He let out a bark of laughter, his silver eyes locking onto hers.

"Feeling's mutual, Granger. Feeling's mutual."

* * *

_**UPDATE 06/03/2013:**_**I feel like I should address this now, since this is the first chapter where it starts, but I just recently realized that the word 'brunette' actually has a masculine form. Lol, who'd have thought? The masculine is, yep, you've guessed it, 'brunet'. As of now, I have gone through all the chapters (ugh, took forever) and changed the spelling. I'm a bit of a spelling nazi. Anyway, just thought I'd let you all know so I don't get reviews asking me about it xD**

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	3. Another Day in Paradise

**Chapter 3 - Another Day In Paradise  
**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling.

* * *

Hermione and Draco had spent a few more minutes chatting about things in general about their lives. According to Malfoy, Hermione had to be careful around Lucius. Apparently, he had quite a temper when provoked, and it would be best if she tried to stay on his good side. This meant trying not to argue with or go against his wishes. The stubborn side of her came out then, wanting to tell Malfoy that his father had no control over her because he wasn't her father. She stopped the words right before they came out of her mouth though because, unfortunately for her, in this screwed-up world, he was.

Narcissa, she found, was a complete sweetheart when it came to her family. According to Malfoy, she'd do anything to keep the ones she loved safe and was extremely loyal to the point of cruelty to others. If she ever needed anything, Narcissa was the woman to ask. She had always wanted a daughter, Malfoy said, but never had the chance. Malfoy surmised that in this alternate universe, she probably doted on Hermione like nothing else. Hermione silently agreed. From what she'd seen of Narcissa thus far, she was completely devoted to her children and to Lucius, period.

As for the situation with Oberon, Malfoy was just as dumbfounded as she. They finally deduced that it was because the Malfoy family needed an heir and, since she was the first born, Lucius and Narcissa were forced to try and try again until they finally had a boy. Because of this, Lucius may have compromised – choosing Hermione's name for her and allowing Narcissa to continue with the Black family tradition and name her son after a constellation.

After finally relaying different things about their families to each other, they parted ways with a simple 'see you later'. Even then, it was awkward for Hermione to be this civil with the man – well boy, now – who had tormented her for seven years and then shoved her against a tree just the night before, spitting in her face about who had it worse during the War.

She was still unwavering in her answer – it was definitely her side.

Picking up her fallen books, she hastily grabbed a few from a nearby bookshelf and made her way to the middle of the floor to show Oberon and Blaise.

* * *

"Oh Hermione, what are you wearing? That's nowhere near suitable enough," chided Narcissa, "You need to look perfect!"

"But Nar–mum!" she complained, correcting herself quickly, "This is comfortable."

Hermione had taken quite a shine to the signature black dress in her ridiculously large-sized closet. It was much more comfortable than the other dresses she found. She even found a variation of her dress that had long sleeves. That one, in particular, caught her eye. It effectively hid her scar from sight.

Considering how perceptive and anal about appearances Narcissa was, Hermione was surprised she hadn't seen the scar yet. She prayed to Merlin her good luck would last the rest of the week until she went to Hogwarts.

Narcissa 'tsked'.

"Hermione," she sighed, sitting down on her bed in one graceful movement, her blue eyes pleading with her to listen, "Please, you know how important these dinners are to your father. He would be so upset–"

"Yes," she retorted angrily, her brown eyes flashing. "I know. So he can show off and try and one-up everyone else when it comes to politics within the Ministry."

Narcissa arched an eyebrow at her outburst.

"Your father wouldn't want to hear you speak like that, Hermione. Neither do I," she said dangerously.

Hermione just slumped.

"I hate these," she muttered back, staring dubiously at her closet once more.

Hermione had already been subjected to two of these 'friendly get-togethers' so far: one yesterday and another two days before – the day they went shopping in Diagon Alley.

"How can you possibly hate them, Hermione?" asked Narcissa, getting up once again and joining her in the closet. "They give you a chance to dress up. I _loved_ dressing up." She frowned, the expression marring the beauty of her features, "You're so much like your Aunt Bella. She hated these – she'd rather duel and get dirty with the boys. It almost killed your Grandfather, Cygnus. He was so afraid he'd never marry her off properly."

Hermione froze at the mention of Bellatrix. Her right hand began to slowly creep up the sleeve of her left arm before she quickly moved it away.

_I am __**nothing**__ like Bellatrix, _she thought, appalled and disgusted.

Oblivious to her daughter's reaction, Narcissa pulled out a lovely, long, deep-blue dress, a tentative smile on her face. "What about this one?"

"I'll get hot, mother," Hermione complained quietly, touching the silken fabric. She'd know; she'd been wearing a long, silk dress yesterday and felt like she would pass out from the heat.

Narcissa frowned, her lips curving downwards.

"Hermione," she started sternly, "I can't stand here and help you all day. I need to go get ready. If we don't find anything in the next five minutes," she paused, "then you may choose something of your liking. _However_," she added intensely, as Hermione sighed in relief, "if it is not fitting for tonight, I _will_ make you come back up here and change until you find something suitable. _Do I make myself clear?_"

Hermione inhaled sharply at the threat before sighing and nodding her head in acceptance. She wouldn't go against Narcissa; it was stupid to do so. Besides, she had been wonderful to Hermione so far, if not a bit stern when it came to appearances and behavior. It was weird for Hermione to adjust to Narcissa's affinity for clothing and manner because her actual mother never cared what she wore or how she acted – as long as it was within reason and respectable. She always told Hermione to dress sensibly and comfortably and to be herself. If anyone had a problem, then they didn't matter. Apparently it was the complete opposite in the pure-blood world of wealth, power, and luxury. Appearances, power, the size of your Gringott's account, and the prestige of your family name were _everything_.

* * *

Draco stared warily at the large book-shelf in his room. To his utter disgust, it had been filled to the brim with books. It wasn't the fact that there was an absurd amount of books in his quarters; it was more the fact that said books were _muggle_ books, not magical. He wasn't sure what he'd find within the pages, but he was sure it wouldn't be anything important. What important things would _muggles_ talk about? There was nothing interesting about their life that was for sure. The most they would write about would be how terrible their last meal was or the fact that their loved one was caught cheating or something equally stupid.

Draco snorted. He couldn't believe he was actually contemplating reading one of these pieces of junk. Unfortunately, he really didn't know anyone, and, according to Granger's parents, had no friends. Apparently his accidental magic scared all the other muggle children away while he was in primary school.

He thanked Merlin he wouldn't have the displeasure to attend one. At least the fairy was merciful enough to start him off right before he was shipped off to Hogwarts. He shuddered. He probably would have killed himself if he had to sit through a year of that shit. Cavorting with muggles? The thought made him sick. Sure, he had changed. Being monogamous and fucking around with one girl for a few months in sixth year because you had absolutely no time or energy to find any others would do that to someone. Lack of sex, sleep, energy, and the looming threat of death had made him question everything, especially himself. Who was he? What did _he_ want? Was this the future _he_ desired? Being bossed around by someone else? His father had always told him Malfoys were leaders, not followers. He had wanted to ask him during his sixth and seventh year why the hell they were suddenly followers, then. However, he stopped himself. He didn't want to estrange his family even more. After all, they were all he had left.

That and sex, really. Draco was never monogamous… ever. Astoria and Pansy had been the only two he even showed that level of respect for. Pansy and he had been best friends since they were little, and she had always been there for him. _Always_. He could count on her. She was his rock – she would back him up, always take his side, and was always fretting over him. He showed the exact same level of care for her. They were so close. Of course, being around someone of the opposite sex who always showed they cared during puberty made their relationship go to the next level. She'd been his first. They'd only been together for a month – their first date being the Yule ball – deciding later that they were better as best friends. He had loved her. He knew he did and he knew he still did, but it was in a platonic way. He realized later that it really always had been.

As for Astoria; she was beautiful, seductive, shrewd, and cold. It took him awhile to adjust to her personality because it reminded him so much of, well, himself. When it came to sex, it was always about his needs. It was never anything more. Many of the girls he'd slept around with were never more than a passing fancy – unbridled lust and desire which he got out after a few rounds. She, Astoria Greengrass, had given him a run for his money. Most girls hated his cavalier manner. A lot of them wanted to change him. They were determined they could… however, he always proved them wrong. When he finally bedded Astoria, he was surprised. He knew she was a lot like the female version of him, but, if at all possible, she was even _more_ cavalier. Her attitude surprised even him. There was never snuggling, cuddling, or morning sex. It was wrong to spend the night with her. She hated slow love-making – it was _always_ fast and animalistic. No pet names, no compliments, just plain unadulterated _sex_. She was so tempting he couldn't resist. He had to keep her. Being in a sexual relationship with her was just so easy, especially considering the fact that he had no time to look for women sixth year. With Astoria, there were never ridiculous expectations. After all, what girl even thought of sex like that? He'd certainly never found one. She was the first.

_Anyway, _thought Draco, shaking his head, _enough about her._

After the hell he called sixth year, he didn't necessarily preach blood purity as he had his earlier years in Hogwarts. However, that didn't mean he was ready to sit down, hold hands, and fucking skip around and spread sunshine with muggles. He'd rather greet Hagrid nicely, and _that_ was saying something. He fucking hated the oaf. Why Dumbledore allowed him to teach a damn class was beyond him. The oaf should have been forced to leave Hogwarts' premises after he was practically killed by that mental, over-grown, and blood-thirsty chicken in third year. What was that bloody hippogriff's name? Bigbeak?

_Why do I even care?_

Draco sneered grimly, his attention turning back to the books, weighing his options – or his lack thereof.

_Why not give it a shot, _he thought, tentatively picking up a random book between his pointer finger and thumb, as though it were something utterly disgusting and filthy. _I don't have to tell anyone. No one has to know. If Granger asks, I'll tell her I just sat in my room all day._

He suddenly grinned evilly.

_Or I could just tell her I was wanking off. Then she'll never ask me questions ever again._

Draco's grin turned into a wide smirk. That was a perfect plan. The Gryffindor Princess was such a prude.

_She'd probably die of embarrassment and shock and turn so red she'd practically explode._

Draco grinned gleefully.

He couldn't wait.

Draco flipped over the book in his hands and casually read the title.

_Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul._

The Slytherin wrinkled his nose, arching an eyebrow. He supposed Jean bought this. He couldn't imagine Arthur buying anything of the sort.

_Chicken soup? What the bloody hell does that mean in this context?_

He suddenly had an image of someone cooking Bigbeak, or whatever the bloody chicken's name was, up in a large pot and a huge grin spread across his face.

_Such a beautiful mental image._

Against his better judgment to leave the book alone – after all, the title _was_ suspicious – he cracked open the small paper-back and started reading. It was better than moping around all day doing nothing and thinking about people like Granger, who he was sure wasn't thinking about him, and feeling helpless and useless.

Suffice to say that, about five hours later, Draco was scarred for life.

* * *

"_Behave_," drawled Lucius slowly, his grey eyes traveling between Oberon and Hermione, intensely. "Do not be loud, do not act un-cultured, _no pranks_," he looked at Oberon significantly, who seemed extremely bored, "and _no sarcastic comments_." He looked at Hermione this time, an eyebrow raised. She grimaced. "Understood?" he asked suddenly, his voice sharp.

The two siblings jumped before nodding quickly.

Lucius' face softened a fraction of a moment before a loud chime sounded throughout the manor – the doorbell. His face hardened into a cold mask of politeness.

"Don't embarrass me."

With one more significant look at the two, he swept away, his black robes billowing behind him.

"Sheesh," muttered Oberon under his breath, "you let frogs into Rose Parkinson's robes once and you can never live it down."

Hermione's eyes widened and she giggled.

"You did that?!"

"Duh, 'Mione," he rolled his eyes as though it were obvious, "You were there. You know how much I hate that woman." He narrowed his eyes, "A bit daft, aren't you? Perhaps Zabini was right-"

She stopped laughing immediately.

"I am not daft," she shot back, feeling the need to defend herself, "I just… er… forgot."

The words nearly hurt her coming out. She made it her mission to never forget _anything_.

He smirked, looking almost exactly like an eleven year old Draco Malfoy.

"Right," he replied, his tone of voice indicating he didn't believe her at all.

She crossed her arms and 'harrumphed', not gracing his egotistical reply with an answer.

Just as she was about to open her mouth again, laughter was heard. She and Oberon both groaned loudly, slouching down in their seats for a few moments, before straightening.

"Father is too strict about this," scowled Oberon.

"Ah, ah, ah," smirked Hermione, wagging a finger at him, "You can't scowl, 'Ron. Father'll get _angry_."

He just scowled more before suddenly masking his face into one of polite boredom.

"Not just father," he muttered.

Hermione turned around then to see Narcissa give them a dark look – which made both Hermione and Oberon gulp – before turning back to a woman with short, black hair, pug-like features, and stunning violet eyes. Rose Parkinson. It seemed Pansy would turn into an almost exact replica of her mother. They both had the same exotic features that made them beautiful, but it was a much more uncommon and unnatural sort of beauty. They had faces you'd only see once in a lifetime and features so different and striking it made you look twice.

Suddenly, someone slid into the chair next to Hermione and the now-platinum blond stiffened before turning slowly, her brown eyes wary.

Her eyes rested on a girl with short black hair and violet eyes. Her features were distinctly pug-like.

"Pansy," Hermione breathed, her brown eyes flashing dangerously.

The girl's mouth widened into a malevolent smirk.

"Hermione," she replied, malice in her voice as her violet eyes perused her scornfully.

Oberon narrowed his grey orbs as Hermione clasped her hands together to stop herself from punching the raven-haired girl, hatred rolling off her in waves. She couldn't believe she had to put up with this. Unfortunately, Pansy had always been a bitch; at least, that's how she acted. The fact that she wanted to give up Harry to Voldemort at the final battle just proved that. But now, it seemed Hermione actually had to _live_ with it and _deal_ with it.

She had a feeling the rest of the evening would be hell.

* * *

Draco sat on his bed, staring at the stupid chicken soup book balefully. Why the bloody _fuck_ did he decide to pick that up? Out of all the books on his shelf, he had to go pick up _that_ one. He could now say with 100 percent certainty that he was, unfortunately, wrong – muggles sure had a lot of problems and it seemed they loved to go talk about them publicly.

His face contorted into one of disgust.

Why would they be stupid enough to tell everyone their problems? Problems were better kept sealed and packaged away. Ignoring them, pretending you didn't have them, and hiding them were better. Coming off as perfect was better than letting people know you were damaged or broken.

Draco cursed under his breath, remembering the night he and Granger met the fairy. In a fit of rage, he had told the stupid Gryffindor all of his and his friends' problems and that was _bad_. Only Merlin knew what kind of stuff she could pull with that information – the looks of pity she'd give them when she investigated, after finally going back to the proper universe, and found that what he told her was the truth. Every pure-blood family out there – save a few – was on the way to extinction. No source of income, no help, nothing. No one cared. They had to band together now and try and survive. However, their fortunes could only sustain them for so long. Maybe another couple hundred years or so, depending on the family.

The Greengrasses were the only exception he knew of.

The Dark Lord stripped them of _everything_ after Daphne and Astoria's father, Hyperion, refused to take his side in the war. He burned the main estate, emptied their Gringott's accounts, and killed Hyperion in front of his family.

That was Draco's nightmare. Seeing his father killed, his house in ruins, and the manor in shambles would kill him. Forget _Avada Kedavra_, just the thought of his mother's anguish would destroy him.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to get the thought out of his system. Just thinking about it made it harder for him to breathe.

Understanding their pain, Malfoy offered the Greengrasses help and they were now living with his family. He and Astoria were getting married within a year or so, after all, so it wasn't as weird as it could have been. His family would have taken them in anyways because of Hyperion's death. It was the right thing to do.

The only thing that bothered him was Daphne's advances. If he were to be honest, they were a little creepy. She was to the point of obsession with a few boys in Hogwarts and he, Blaise, and Theodore Nott had been three of the eight. Not that the obsession she had was always good. Oh no… she was cruel, much like Astoria, but her whiplash of a personality made up for it. Many thought she was bipolar. She'd be happy and bubbly one minute and then cruel and callous the next. Although her mood swings weren't usually _that_ drastic, to Draco, it was just a big flashing red sign that read 'STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER, SHE'S BLOODY MENTAL.'

So stay the fuck away he did.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before picking up the chicken book and chucking it across the room. He was tired and he needed sleep. Besides, thinking of his real life just made something uncomfortable twist in his stomach. It was surreal, being in this world where everything was suddenly alright.

Draco had been walking out of Flourish & Blotts after his chat with Granger and had seen his parents talking with Blaise's mother. He had to stop himself from grinning and running over like a child. Merlin, did he feel stupid at that moment for wanting to do something _so_ childish. They were deep in conversation, but Draco could tell they were happy.

It had been _so_ long since he'd seen his parents happy. Sure, they were on the mend, but it seemed everything that happened the past few years cemented them. It was like a mirror. Once broken, you could put the pieces back together with a little wave of your wand, but there would always be that tiny little _crack_.

His parents would never be whole again.

He let out a cold, painful laugh, shaking his head as he got into the covers of his bed.

Draco had always wanted to turn back time and find a way to change everything. It was, of course, just a wish. He had known that.

Yet… how cruel was fate?

He finally had what he wanted – he was back in his eleven year old self – but he really couldn't change anything. This wasn't even _real_.

That thought alone opened the already gaping, numb hole in his chest. It was sick. He was forced to watch everything over again if Dumbledore couldn't find a way out of this and, frankly, he doubted the man could. He was brilliant, Draco could give him that, but he just wasn't brilliant _enough_. This was fairy magic, after all. Little was known about it.

On top of this, he wouldn't personally be re-living it – someone else would be re-living it _in his place_, making choices _in his place_, and that someone was fucking _Granger_. Fucking Hermione Granger who was a true Gryffindor – thinking everything was easy and simple and that everyone had options. She would no doubt screw up everything and he'd have to sit from the sidelines and watch the destruction of his family. It didn't matter if this weird alternate universe wasn't real. He would still be watching his family's downfall. She probably wouldn't even care, too.

He must have really deserved this. He must be a really fucking _terrible_ person. What everyone, save his friends and family, said about him was true.

Why else would he be forced to go through his own personal hell?

* * *

**I got such a wonderful response for the last chapter! **Thanks _so_ much to: anidot90, NinjaClarinetGirlBianca, buttercup, dimkasgirl07, that-moment-between-strangers, Hunter's Heir, Jadarainbow, katie, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, 23Nelly, Joyce. On another note, it seems I can never write a chapter without some form of ridiculousness. The whole Chicken Soup idea just sort of came to me, lol, and I decided to go along with it. The Draco Malfoy in my mind would have been utterly appalled and appalled he was. Did you all enjoy it? I hope so... *wrings hands nervously*. If you haven't read TDLD, then you wouldn't know this... but I love writing humor. You will probably be seeing a _ton_ of that in this story - just a heads up. Oh, and since we're on the topic of this story, I have another heads up - we're looking at A TON of chapters for this one and a possible sequel, BUT IDK. Nothing's set in stone yet.

_Question: Have you ever read a Chicken Soup book? If so, what one(s)?_

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	4. Back to the Start

**Chapter 4 – Back To The Start  
**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling.

* * *

"But what if I _don't_ get into Slytherin?" Hermione asked Lucius warily as they stood by the large entrance hall, waiting for Narcissa and Oberon.

"Of course you will," he replied smoothly, "All Malfoys and all the _respectable_ pure-bloods have."

Her stomach twisted into knots. It was clear when Lucius emphasized "respectable" that she and the Malfoys would be looked down upon if she didn't get into Slytherin.

To be honest, Hermione hadn't even thought about how the sorting would go. The thought hadn't crossed her mind until today – the day she would finally be going back to Hogwarts. Lucius made it abundantly clear that she _had_ to get into Slytherin… or else. She didn't know what the "or else" part meant, but she knew it wasn't anything good.

"Right," she whispered, her palms sweating.

Not only was she stressing out about the sorting, but about Ron and Harry as well. Would they talk to her this year? She knew the animosity and hate between the Malfoys and Weasleys had been going on for years, and she just hoped that didn't mean Ron would automatically detest her. He was _her_ Ron, after all. He would still want to be friends with her. Of course he would. He'd just have to get to know her. The same went with Harry. They would be friends with her. They _would_.

Hermione ignored the little voice inside her head that said she was probably wrong. Just the thought of losing Harry and Ron made her want to cry. What would she do without them this year? All she had was Blaise, and even then, she wasn't close with him. She doubted she ever would be. The pain in her chest grew until she couldn't breathe properly.

_Pull yourself together!_

She tried steadying her breathing. It wouldn't do to have her hyperventilating here in Malfoy Manor next to her quasi-father, Lucius.

After clearing her mind and calming down, refusing to allow herself to think so negatively, she opened her eyes to see Narcissa and Oberon descending the grand staircase.

"About time," grumbled Lucius under his breath.

"What was that, darling?" called out Narcissa, an eyebrow raised.

Hermione's eyes widened.

_How did she even __**hear**__ that?_

Lucius straightened as Narcissa and Oberon joined them.

"I hear everything, Lucius," Narcissa gave him a stern look, answering Hermione's thoughts. "You should know that by now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Cissy," smirked Lucius before motioning to the door, "Shall we go?"

She gave him a brusque nod and walked over the threshold.

"Besides, if we wait any longer," he added under his breath, "Hermione won't even make it to the sorting on time–"

"Lucius!" hissed Narcissa, her blue eyes narrowed menacingly as they walked to the apparition point.

He stopped abruptly and widened his eyes innocently, giving her a lazy smile.

"What is it, darling?"

She gave him a death glare.

He smirked.

* * *

"I'm sending you sweets _every single day_," said Narcissa fiercely, sniffing a bit as she fussed over Hermione's clothing.

"Mum!" Hermione muttered in annoyance at the same time as Lucius and Oberon both rolled their eyes and looked to the sky. It seemed they were praying for some sort of guidance.

Hermione tried to edge away from Narcissa's grasp, feeling exceedingly embarrassed and pampered as wizards and witches alike walked past, gaping.

"I'm just going to _Hogwarts_," Hermione mumbled as Narcissa pulled her in for a hug, her hands combing through her platinum hair, "It's not like I'm leaving and never coming back. Besides, you have 'Ron–"

"_Oberon_!" said Lucius, slamming his cane down on the ground once, aggravated.

"–and father."

"Darling, Oberon will be tutored for five hours on the weekdays. What am I to do, then? I'll only have your father. Merlin knows how terrible _that_ will be," Narcissa sighed teasingly, looking at Lucius out of the corner of her eyes.

"Cissy!" he hissed.

"Just kidding, darling," she replied sweetly, patting his chest a few times before leaning in, "You know how much I love yo–"

"NO!" exclaimed Hermione and Oberon simultaneously, clamping their hands over their ears.

Lucius and Narcissa just watched them, smirking.

The train's horn suddenly sounded and the four looked up at the noise.

"I'm sending you those sweets," said Narcissa once again, pulling Hermione in for a hug.

"Mum!" she cried again, trying to get away but failing terribly.

Hermione sighed. She knew it would be useless to try and convince Narcissa to change her mind. Sending her sweets every day? That was too much! She was already excessively pampered; she didn't need to add "getting expensive chocolate every day" to her list of RTMD or 'Ridiculous Things the Malfoys Do'. Lucius ensuring only the finest shampoo and conditioner was used by Hermione, Narcissa, and Oberon, buying a new dress for every dinner party, and ironing every article of clothing – including underwear and socks – before wearing were three of the things on that list. Her parents would be horrified if "eating daily heaps of chocolate" was added as well. She wondered if Narcissa's pampering and Lucius's constant mentions of "Malfoys always get what they want" when presenting her with some sort of completely unnecessary gift – all she had to do was stare at something in a shop for a little longer than a moment, and she'd automatically find it in her room as a gift the next morning – was what made Draco so completely spoiled and such a mama's boy.

_Probably was._

"Make _sure_ you write," added Lucius, giving her a very fast hug.

Hermione's eyes almost popped out of her head in astonishment. She froze, wishing someone had a camera.

Getting a hold of herself quickly, she pulled back and nodded to Lucius and gave both him and Narcissa a genuine smile. Despite the fact that Narcissa had said so many terrible things to and about her in her real life, she found herself liking _this_ Narcissa. The one that was fiercely loyal, loving, and caring. Although she didn't want to admit it, she _would_ miss her somewhat this year.

Hermione sighed inwardly. It was wrong to try and feel something for these people. Oberon wasn't even real, and the true Narcissa hated her. She was basically setting herself up for depression when she got back to her old life. Hermione couldn't help it, though. Everything about the Malfoys was just so shocking to her. They were _so_ loving towards each other. She had assumed things about them of course, but never in her wildest dreams would it have been anything like _this_. It was almost as though they were normal. The thought was laughable because, frankly, they were anything but. However, to Hermione, they were actually acting like a family. It scared her. She was starting to care for them. If they died, she would be sad.

_Disturbing_.

After giving Oberon a quick hug, Hermione walked away from the Malfoys feeling a mixture of emptiness, excitement, and relief. She gave them another quick wave before boarding.

* * *

Her stomach twisted once she surveyed the train.

_Where would she sit?_

She sighed, realizing that she'd probably have to sit by herself on the train like she did back in first year.

Just as the girl was about to sit in an empty compartment, she heard her name. Looking up, her eyes latched onto a pair of familiar dark brown pools.

"What are you _doing_, Hermione?" Blaise questioned, playfully shaking his head, "You're _supposed_ to be sitting next to me."

She gave him a small smile as relief washed over her. She wouldn't be sitting by herself!

"Alright," she said softly, allowing him to tug her to the back of the train.

Her heart stopped beating when he opened the door to one of the compartments. Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Crabbe, and Goyle were all seated, chatting amiably with one another. As soon as she entered, it went silent.

Pansy's expression immediately soured as she looked Hermione up and down. Just as she was about to say something undoubtedly rude, Daphne got up, walked over, and gave Hermione a hug.

Surprised, she froze before cautiously giving one back.

"H-Hey Daphne," she stuttered, unsure of what their relationship was in this alternate universe.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, her amber eyes big and wild, "It's been a few months! I'd hoped you'd be coming to Hogwarts so I could talk to you, 'Mione! I was afraid you'd be sent off to Beauxbatons because I know your mum wanted you to go-"

Hermione sat down between the window and Daphne – Blaise sat across from her – and listened to the girl's never-ending chatter. Relaxing into the seat, she felt a weight being lifted from her shoulders. She knew Daphne in this life. That was good. Other than Blaise, at least she'd have _someone_ to talk to, even if Daphne was known for being a little mental.

* * *

"Wait, why didn't you come again, Daphne?" Hermione asked, turning away from the window. She had just waved goodbye to Narcissa, Lucius, and Oberon. "You should have come, it would have been fun."

_I also wouldn't have bloody been by myself with Parkinson, _she thought, her eyes flickering over to the violet-eyed girl before flashing back to Daphne.

Despite what everyone had always said about Daphne, the girl was nice enough in Hermione's eyes. She chatted a lot and was overly excited when it came to certain discussion topics, but other than that, she was fine. Hermione actually found herself liking the older Greengrass sister.

"Father fell sick," she responded, the brightness in her eyes dimming a bit, "We had to owl your mother and let her know we couldn't make it. At least you had Pansy, right?"

The raven-haired girl in question turned her head to look at Hermione before her eyes flickered to Daphne. A slow smirk found its way on her face.

"Of course, Daph. Hermione will _always_ have me," her violet eyes flashed as they found Hermione's brown pools once again.

The blond repressed a shudder at how ominous the words sounded.

"Of course, Pansy," Hermione finally replied, her tone acerbic, "It was a pleasure, as always."

The violet-eyed girl flashed her a haughty glance before turning to Blaise and starting up a conversation. Hermione felt a wave of irritation wash over her as she watched the two chat. Didn't Blaise know how terrible Pansy was? How did he put up with her? She shook her head, confused.

Just as she was about to speak again, the door opened, and with a jolt, she recognized Neville.

"H-H-Hey, g-g-guys," he stuttered terribly.

Hermione felt a wave of sympathy pass through her.

"Have any of you seen my t-toad?"

Rather than answer, the five others in the compartment paused for a moment before laughing cruelly.

Neville turned a brilliant shade of red, and unable to stop herself, Hermione got up immediately.

"I'll help you search," she gave him a quick smile.

"O-Okay," he sputtered, obviously surprised that someone was going to help him.

The compartment became deathly silent as the platinum blond made her way over to the door.

"Hermione," said Blaise slowly, frowning, "you've got to be kidding, right? Why would you help him?"

"As far as I'm concerned," she said calmly, pausing at the threshold of the compartment's door, "you're all being quite rude. He needs help and I'm willing to help him. What did he ever do to all of you?"

Pansy cackled.

Hermione immediately bristled.

"Of course, little Miss Prim and Perfect will definitely help a _loser_," she hissed.

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

"It's better than being a bitch, now isn't it?" she answered loudly, unable to stop herself.

Her lips curved into a satisfied grin as she slammed the compartment door shut, Pansy letting out a little gasp at her language and Daphne laughing.

* * *

"Er…"

Draco looked up slowly only to get quite a shock.

"Hello," said Ron Weasley, "Um…" The redhead exchanged a look with Harry Potter before turning back to stare at Draco. "D'you think it'd be alright if we sat here? The other compartments are full."

A smirk appeared on Draco's face as he leaned back against his seat casually. His eyes flickered between the two.

He nodded, waving a hand around the compartment grandly.

"Go on, sit down."

The two shuffled in self-consciously and all was silent. Draco continued to smirk as Potter took the seat next to him and Weasley across.

_I should have packed a bloody camera._

"Why d'you keep smirking?" asked Weasel King, his nose scrunched up as he exchanged a strange look with Harry.

"I think you've got some dirt on your nose, Weasel," Draco parried smoothly.

"_Weasel_?" he asked incredulously as he tried to wipe the dirt off, "My last name is _Weasley_! My first name is _Ron_! Besides, how do you even know my name?!"

Draco shrugged, "I heard it from a few other students. Besides," he smirked, "Weasley, Weasel… all the same."

Weasley and Potter exchanged a look.

"Harry," the boy whispered, leaning in.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Boy, they were _daft_ if they thought he couldn't hear anything.

"Maybe we should move to another compartment–"

Draco's eyes widened and before he knew he was doing, he butt in.

"Look, I didn't mean it," he said quickly, unsure of why exactly he was quasi-apologizing to the idiots, "It was just a joke."

The two jumped before looking over at him.

"Er… alright then," mumbled Potter awkwardly. Draco could see he didn't have much experience around other kids his age – hell, he could tell the boy had no experience around other _people_ in general.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Draco," he replied, taking the boy's outstretched hand warily, trying hard not to cringe. "Draco Ma–Granger." He caught himself quickly and the two looked at him suspiciously.

"Right," said Weasel slowly, his eyes watching him suspiciously, "It's nice to meet you, Draco."

"Yeah," agreed Potter, smiling a little bit, "It's nice to meet you as well."

"Oh, I know it is," he agreed pompously, "I would say the same about you two," smirked Draco, "but then I would be lying."

Silence. The two boys stared at him a few moments.

"Just kidding!" Draco bit out quickly, gritting his teeth as he plastered a smile on his face.

He could see comprehension dawning on the two, and they both smiled genuinely then, laughing.

"Are you always so sarcastic like this?" asked Weasel.

"Usually," he hedged.

They started laughing again. The newly-made brunet joined in falsely before turning to look out the window and grimacing, his eyebrows furrowing.

_Merlin, Morgana, and Circe, __**please**__ bloody save me._

If these two were Draco's only chance of having friends this year, he wasn't quite sure he wanted them at all.

* * *

Hermione had been going compartment to compartment the past few minutes, asking people if they had seen Neville's toad. So far, she'd been to at least twenty and none of them had Harry, Ron, or Malfoy.

"Hi," she said, opening another compartment door and popping her head in, "Have any of you seen a toad? A friend of mine has lost his on the train."

The four sitting in the compartment shook their heads no. She thanked them and then walked over to the next.

Call it intuition or a gut-feeling, but her nerves kicked into overdrive as she neared the compartment door. She sensed that the three people she'd been inconspicuously searching for on the train were all gathered in this one compartment. It was a silly notion. After all, why would Malfoy put up with Harry or Ron? Last she knew, the formerly blond Slytherin despised the two – his rant just last week proved that.

She didn't realize her hands were shaking until she lifted them to the compartment door and pulled it aside. Her breath caught in her throat at what she saw. Harry and Ron were laughing, and Malfoy was smirking. He was bloody _smirking_.

"Draco?" she choked out, unable to believe he was enjoying himself in the presence of her two best friends.

His grey eyes immediately flickered to Hermione's. They widened in recognition.

"Gra–Hermione!" he recovered quickly, "This isn't what it looks like!"

She was about to retort with a sly remark about how he was _obviously_ getting pretty well acquainted with her two best friends when Ron's voice stopped her.

"Hermione?" frowned the redhead.

Hermione's face lit up. Maybe–

"As in Hermione _Malfoy_?"

And just like that, her hopes came crashing down.

"Y-Yes," she stammered, looking from Harry to Ron, "That's me. I–"

"And what do _you_ want?" asked Ron rudely, his blue eyes looking her up and down.

"Um…" she coughed a few times, trying to ignore the pain she felt at his tone of voice, "I just wanted to know if any of you have seen a frog. A friend of mine – Neville Longbottom – has lost his on the train."

They all shook their heads – Draco's silver eyes glinting – and Hermione squeaked out a small 'thanks' before closing the door quickly and leaving. After going into a few more compartments to ask if anyone had found the frog, meeting up with Neville to tell him she had no idea where it had gone, and then venturing to the back of the train, she let her emotions come out as she cried. Seeing Ron so quickly and blatantly hating her, especially considering the fact that they were almost 'together' in her real life, was like a slap on her face.

She promised herself then that she'd try her hardest to befriend them again. If she failed, it would be because _they_ wouldn't allow her to get close to them, not because she didn't try. She loved them both. She _needed_ them.

* * *

"Cunning, deceptive… but also loyal, self-righteous, and loving I see, Mr. Granger," mused the Sorting Hat.

_Loving? _

Draco almost snorted.

_What a load of shit._

"Mind your tongue, boy," The Sorting Hat grumbled.

Draco ignored him, instead clenching his hands and hissing under his breath, "Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin!"

"But don't you think another house would be better? Besides, Salazar has never accepted muggle-borns… hmm… so the question stands, it seems. Where do I put you?"

Panic and anxiety washed over Draco as he slowly came upon the realization that he would not be put in Slytherin.

"Slytherin, _Slytherin_!" he continued to chant more desperately under his breath.

"How about… oh, I know…" said the Sorting Hat loudly, its mind made up.

Draco's heart sank as the Sorting Hat shouted out the one house he was positive he hated more than Hufflepuff.

"_GRYFFINDOR_!"

* * *

Catching Malfoy's furious grey eyes as the Sorting Hat was taken off his head by Professor McGonagall, Hermione tried hard not to laugh. Unable to stop herself, however, she let out a little giggle and shot him a smirk.

_Teaches him right!_

He looked irritated as the hall erupted in applause and he slumped over to the Gryffindor table next to Fred, George, and Percy Weasley.

Hermione did a double take when she saw Fred and George together, smiling and clapping Malfoy on the back. Pain swept through her body as she regarded the twins. She hadn't seen George that happy in _months_. A lump formed in her throat as her eyes flickered to his deceased twin, and she looked away quickly, trying hard not to cry.

More names were called out and more people were sorted.

"Hermione Malfoy," called out McGonagall, her eyes sweeping over the students.

Her stomach knotted anxiously as the crowd parted for her. Whispering broke out in the hall, and she tried hard to focus only on the Sorting Hat.

Lucius's words rang through her head once more, and a wave of anxiety washed over her as she took her place on the stool. She caught Blaise's eyes and he gave her a quick thumbs up.

Although Hermione never thought she'd think such a thing, she found herself hoping to get into Slytherin. She didn't want to face Lucius's wrath and get in trouble. As far as she was concerned, she wanted to live this life with as little trouble as possible until she got back home later in the year. The less she provoked her 'father', the better.

As soon as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head, she prayed for Slytherin.

Hermione wasn't disappointed.

"_SLYTHERIN_!" it shouted out moments later, and she felt a mix between relief and disgust.

The Slytherin table got up and applauded loudly as she made her way over to Daphne and Tracey Davis, both of whom were already sorted. As she sat down, her eyes automatically roved over the rest of the hall before landing on a familiar pair.

Malfoy looked extremely frustrated that she had gotten into the house he wanted. She sent him another little smirk, too preoccupied with goading him because of _his_ frustration, to recognize her own at not being in Gryffindor. His grey eyes flashed with anger, and he pursed his lips. She stuck her tongue out, not caring at all that it was very childish of her, before turning away and getting caught up in pleasantries with other Slytherins.

_At least Malfoy's angry, _she thought with satisfaction. _That means I'm doing __**something**__ right._

It wasn't until much later that night that reality set in and Hermione finally realized she was sorted into _Slytherin_; the house she absolutely detested – the house filled with the people she knew to be murderers and self-righteous bigots.

That was when she realized she probably _would_ need Narcissa's daily shipment of chocolates and letters to help her get through the year.

* * *

**Let me know what you think! **A big thank you to all the lovely people that reviewed the last chapter: _perfect. anjel, PantherPatronus, CecilieDK, monkeygirlalli, ThornsxRoses, 23Nelly, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, cloudy rains, midnight shadow of darkness, krista12, _and_ that-moment-between-strangers_. You are all amazing - I'm sending you all internet hugs and cookies :)

_Question: Do you think Hermione, Ron, and Harry will ever become friends again in this alternate universe?_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

* * *

___****____**Tumblr: potterston**_

* * *

_**Twitter: ******__mnadzz_


	5. Map of the Problématique

**Chapter 5 – Map Of The Problématique**

* * *

Quick Note:I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Slytherin Dorms – 09/02/1991**_

Hermione shot straight up in bed and shrieked as soon as she opened her brown eyes that morning. She had woken up like usual – stretching and turning around in her bed – when she looked over at her window. The Giant Squid had been staring back at her, one of its tentacles pushing on the glass. That was when she lost it.

She pulled in a sharp breath, half expecting the window to break and the girls' dormitory to fill with nasty, filthy water. When nothing happened, and the squid gave her one last look before swimming away, she relaxed, running her hands over her face.

_What a wonderful way to wake up in the morning, _she thought dryly.

Shooting one last look at the window, and then her dormitory mates, who were still dead to the world, she got out of bed and headed over to the bathroom.

Over the years at Hogwarts, Hermione had learned that getting up when all the other girls woke was not a good idea. Fights broke out over who would get the bathroom first, and Hermione was left huffing and puffing, her anger spiking to dangerous levels when snide little comments about the state of her hair were made and used to justify Parvati or Lavender's need to use the bathroom more. They'd tell her no amount of time in the world would tame her "bushy mane". The first snide comment had been during her first year and had made quite an impression on her. Because of it, Hermione made it her mission never to talk to them. The fact that they continually stressed the pros of _looks_ rather than brains or personality irked her to no end. Looks weren't everything. Brains and an amiable, nice personality was what would get you through life and earn you respect from your peers.

Example A: _Malfoy_.

The boy had the looks, she could give him that, but was, quite honestly, _severely_ lacking in the personality department. And now look where it got him! Back in time as a Granger.

She smirked lightly as she opened the bathroom door before rolling her eyes at the direction her thoughts were taking. If she kept thinking about Malfoy, her morning would _really_ be ruined.

After all, Malfoy _was_ a life ruiner. He ruined peoples' lives. Why would mornings be any different?

_Stop thinking about him!_

She pulled down the toilet cover before sitting upon it and closing her eyes. After a few moments, her mind was finally cleared of all things ferret-related and filled with all things appropriately _school_ related. It was the first day, after all.

Allowing excitement fill her at the prospect of starting classes once more, Hermione opened her eyes and smiled, humming to herself as she went about her morning business.

Just as she was about to wash the soap from her face, she came upon a startling conclusion. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped.

Hermione forgot to go see Dumbledore last night.

She groaned at the painful stinging in her eyes from the soap and from her forgetfulness.

_Malfoy is going to bloody murder me._

* * *

_**Gryffindor Dorms**_

Draco wanted to, quite literally, kill himself. Anything would do. He wasn't averse to impaling himself upon the bloody sword of _Gryffindor_ if that was the only way. He was unable to believe this.

Even though he had known in the back of his mind that Dumbledore wouldn't be able to find a way out of this hell, hearing the old man actually say it made it all the more real. They were stuck like this for Merlin knew how long.

Draco had been too numb and too shocked last night to even register what Dumbledore had been saying. It had been an absolutely terrible night for him. He'd waited for Granger after the tour, but he must have lost her since he didn't see her. He would have gone on a rampage, found her, and then dragged her with him to see Dumbledore, but he wasn't stupid enough to try and venture down into the dungeons to find her. The older Slytherins would kill him. He would know. He'd been one of them, after all.

Then, after giving Weasley and Potter an excuse and telling them he had to go to the bathroom – they believed him since they had _no_ idea there was a bathroom in the boys' dormitory – he had trudged to and waited outside Dumbledore's office, hoping she'd show up once again. After ten minutes of waiting, and no bloody sign of her, Draco suddenly realized he had no idea what the password was.

Another ten minutes passed where he named every single fucking Wizarding candy to get the Gargoyle to jump to life and allow him entry. Finally, when he screamed "fucking peppermint toads" at the Gargoyle, it moved.

He was then completely and utterly humiliated when, after explaining the situation to Dumbledore, the older wizard asked him where Hermione was.

Draco had eventually settled on saying one of the three letter phrases he hated the most: "I don't know."

By some act of Merlin, Dumbledore believed him, but said there was no way to change anything. Regular Wizarding magic did not and could not affect fairy magic in any way. The only way they could think of going back would be to somehow find the bloody fairy and ask her to do it herself as only _her_ magic could release them.

Draco knew that was pretty much the same thing as saying he and Granger were stuck in this alternate universe until they learned their lesson – that the grass is _not_ greener on the other side.

On top of all this shit, he came back to the boys' dormitory only to find out a half hour into the night that Weasel snored like a fucking hippogriff breaking wind.

Then, Draco had endured it for a good hour before realizing that he could just place a bloody silencing charm on him and be done with it. Literally slapping himself, he placed the charm on the red-head before throwing himself back on the bed and trying desperately to sleep which, like usual, he couldn't. He had hoped just a little bit that the nightmares would cease in this world, but like always, he was sadly mistaken.

And now… now it was the morning. Around six in the morning to be exact, and reality was sinking in painfully.

He wouldn't be going home.

_He wouldn't be going home._

Draco wouldn't have thought it could have been any worse, but once again, he was sadly mistaken. Not only did he have to deal with this, but he had to break it to Granger.

He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly before swinging his legs off the side of the bed and rubbing his tired eyes.

_Shit._

* * *

_**Great Hall**_

Hermione froze mid-bite when she caught sight of a familiar, sleek, black owl flying gracefully through the Great Hall. When it stopped just in front of her plate, she quickly looked around. Thankfully, there were very few students up – thirteen or so.

She let out a breath of relief. The last thing she wanted was extra attention because of Narcissa.

The brown-eyed girl extended a hand towards the owl, and in return, it held up its foot with the envelope and small package. She smiled, taking the two and petting the bird affectionately, before it flew back out the Great Hall.

Hermione opened the envelope first and as she read the lines, was unable to stop the small upwards quirk of her lips.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope school is going well so far, sweetheart. We already miss you here. Did you get into Slytherin? Please tell us you did. You know how angry your father would be if you didn't. He'd probably go berserk and see Dumbledore himself to demand you be resorted. Since you've been lucky enough never to see him like that thus far, let me tell you Hermione, he looks like a raving lunatic._

_On another note, since it's your first day, I decided to send a whole host of chocolate. I know how much you love it. Enjoy, darling. You have to tell me how your day goes._

_Lots of love,  
Mother_

Hermione's eyes flickered from the letter to the very small package on the table nervously. Merlin, she hoped it wasn't extravagant. As soon as she touched the box, it expanded to ten times its size.

_Why do I even allow myself to hope?!_

Hermione's eyes widened as she watched it grow in front of her. Tentatively opening it after it finished its enlargement, she sucked in a sharp breath. Every single type of chocolate imaginable was in the box: milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, chocoballs, chocolate éclairs, chocolate frogs, chocolate eggs, chocolate wands…

Just as she was about to close the package, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Malfoy strolled in looking worse for wear.

Glancing around the hall, the plethora of chocolates momentarily forgotten, she got up from her place at the Slytherin table and made her way over to him.

He stopped walking as soon as he caught sight of her and crossed his arms and stared at her angrily as she walked closer.

"I forg–hey!" Hermione frowned deeply as Malfoy just grabbed the shoulder of her robe roughly and practically dragged her out of the Great Hall.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed as soon as the doors closed behind them, "Get your hands off me!"

She tried to yank herself out of his grip, but he just ignored her and looked both ways before slipping into an alcove.

"You can't just go around man-handling people!" she snapped, her brown eyes blazing as she stared him down, "I'm not a doll for you to–"

"We have bloody bigger problems than that, Granger," he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest, "Just because you didn't go to see our _dear_ Headmaster last night doesn't mean I didn't as well."

Hermione stopped abruptly.

She watched with mounting fear as Draco leaned on the wall opposite her and let out a long, suffering sigh.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, all thought of the way he just treated her going out the window, "What did he say?"

"He can't help us, Granger," he replied quietly, his cautious, grey eyes flickering to hers. "We're stuck figuring a way out of this ourselves."

Hermione stared at him, her mouth parting as the intense feeling of someone punching her in the gut swept over her body at the news. Unconsciously wrapping her arms around her stomach, the world spun, and she slowly slid to the floor as a lump formed in her throat.

"_What_?" she eventually choked out, a whimper escaping her as her body started shaking. "M-Malfoy… you're _lying_," she gasped, her voice low and hoarse. It was painful just to breathe now. "Dumbledore _always_ has the answers."

Malfoy inhaled deeply, raising his right hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"No, I'm not, as unfortunate as that is. Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know," he responded calmly.

Her eyes, which were slowly starting to water, flickered from the floor to Malfoy's. He just looked at her for a few moments, an unreadable expression on his face, before he left the alcove without another word.

Hermione watched him leave, her vision blurring with tears.

_I can't go back home._

Even though there was a little voice in the back of her head that told her that Malfoy could be lying, she disregarded it. It had been quite clear by the way he looked at her that what he told her was true. Although he was hiding it, she could tell he was just as affected by this news as she.

Hermione's jaw trembled before she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. A deep, heart-wrenching sob ripped its way out of her throat, her arms tightening around her throbbing stomach as she fell to pieces.

* * *

_**09/06/1991**_

Seeing Malfoy walk into the Great Hall almost every morning with Harry and Ron in tow evoked a bizarre mix of emotions in Hermione. She was smug at the fact that Malfoy's only friends were the two people he hated more than anything, sad that she wasn't the one walking with Harry and Ron, and, above all, extremely jealous that the prat got to spend more time with them than she. He didn't even treasure their company!

Hermione gripped her spoon tightly in her hand as she glared at them from across the room.

As if he could feel her heated gaze, Malfoy's eyes lifted to look at hers. After a moment, he smirked childishly before purposefully engaging Harry in some sort of conversation. The raven-haired boy looked a little surprised at his sudden talkativeness, but smiled nonetheless and chatted back. Her grip on the spoon tightened.

"Hermione?"

She continued to stare.

"Hermione."

A warm hand was placed on top of the hand that was holding the spoon in a death grip, and she jumped, snapping out of it. The newly-made blond turned to look at Blaise, who was watching her, a mixture of amusement and curiosity in his eyes.

"I don't think you can use that spoon anymore," he pointed out quietly, retracting his hand as his dark gaze travelled from her eyes to the piece of tableware in her hand.

Hermione's eyes flickered to the spoon, widening in surprise when she saw how bent it was.

"Sorry," she muttered quickly, dropping the now-useless spoon on the table and sighing.

"Hermione," Blaise said slowly, "What has mud-blood Granger done to get you so riled up?"

She looked at him so quickly that she was surprised her neck didn't snap.

"W-What?!" she sputtered, "Granger? I don't–"

He rolled his eyes before jerking his head in the direction of Malfoy and cutting her off.

"Granger? He's always with Weasley and Potter?" he prompted.

Relief spread throughout her body.

_He's talking about Draco, not me._

"I–erm–just–he, uh–"

Hermione felt the blood rush to her face, and she looked away.

She had no valid excuse for staring at Malfoy.

"He just pisses me off," she finally mumbled, feeling incredibly stupid at her lame excuse.

Blaise nodded.

"I agree. I've only had him in a few of my classes," his voice turned acerbic, as his attention returned to his food, "but I've already come to find he's too full of himself."

"Right," she agreed quickly, surprised that Blaise bought her excuse, "He _is_ too full of it."

At least she wasn't lying with _that_ statement.

Blaise just shook his head.

"Filthy mud-blood," he sneered, his gaze flickering over to Draco for a split second, "He needs to be taught a lesson, I think."

Hermione looked at him quickly. Merlin did _that_ sound ominous.

"What do you mean, Blaise?" she asked slowly, anxiety clawing at her over Draco's well-being.

He shrugged before sending her a quick smirk.

"Don't worry about it."

"Please don't hurt him or something Blaise, alright?" she pleaded.

He stared at her incredulously.

"It isn't like he's being rude to you. That's just the way he–"

"Are you _defending_ him, Hermione?" asked Blaise a bit too loudly for her taste.

Pansy and Theo both glanced at them, the former's gaze filled with contempt as she eyed Hermione.

The brown-eyed girl smiled at them weakly until they finally turned away.

"Shut up, Blaise!" she hissed, a frown marring her face as she turned to him and quickly lied through her teeth. "I… I'm _not_ defending him. I just don't want you to get in trouble. He isn't worth it."

His dark eyes stared into hers intensely as he tried to read her. Hermione shifted uncomfortably. It seemed his knack for expertly reading people had developed from a young age. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally looked away, focusing on his food once more.

"Fine," he muttered, sounding frustrated, "I won't do it. But that's only because I know it would upset you."

Hermione slumped with relief before straightening.

"Thanks, Blaise," she smiled over at him brightly before focusing on her breakfast as well.

He just rolled his eyes and mumbled "women" under his breath.

She chose to ignore that comment. After a few moments, hoots and screeches could be heard, and Hermione looked up immediately to see owls flying in through the Great Hall and dropping parcels, envelopes, and the newest copy of the Daily Prophet on the four tables. Hermione caught her copy of the Daily Prophet and kept it to the side of her plate, determined to read it after she finished.

Finally scarfing down her toast and eggs, she turned to the rolled up newspaper and spread it out. Her heart beat sounded loudly in her ears as she read the headline, horror seeping through her veins.

**GRINGOTT'S BREAK IN LATEST**

_Investigations continue into the break-in at  
Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the  
work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.  
Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing  
had been taken. The vault that was searched had in  
fact been emptied the same day.  
"But we're not telling you what was in there, so  
keep your noses out if you know what's good  
for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon–_

Hermione looked away, mentally berating herself.

_How could I have forgotten?! _

Voldemort was still alive in this world – he was on the back of bloody Quirrel's head! She looked up immediately and paid attention to the teachers seated on either side of Dumbledore.

There he was. Quirrel. Sitting right where he should be. She had been so caught up with the sorting, that she didn't even _notice_ him.

Merlin, she had forgotten _everything_! She was so stuck on the fact that she was back in time seven bloody years that she hadn't stopped to really think about what that would really mean for her and for Malfoy.

_Speaking of Malfoy…_

The former-Slytherin had been avoiding her for almost four days now, and despite how much Hermione didn't want to admit it, she was angry at him for it. Not only did he bluntly throw the truth at her, not even asking for a _moment_ how she felt, but he wasn't talking to her. He was her only bloody connection to her real life, dang it! _He_ was the only _visible_ reason she hadn't already had a mental breakdown. Hermione wasn't the only one suffering – he was suffering right along with her, and that calmed her and focused her. _She wasn't alone._ They were connected now, by a cruel twist of fate, and as much as she didn't want to voice it, Hermione didn't want him to just dump her on her arse and stop talking to her. Malfoy was the _only_ person that understood her dilemma and the _only_ person she could really talk to about it, and she hated that more than anything.

Catching sight of the brunet sitting at the Gryffindor table, she came to the quick conclusion that it was time she caught up with him and spoke to him. They had to stick together.

They only had each other in this universe, after all.

* * *

Draco had been successfully avoiding Hermione for the past few days. It had taken a bit of work on his part, but since they weren't supposed to be seen together anyway, it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. He just needed space so he could come to terms with everything. The last thing he needed was her ridiculously emotion-filled Gryffindor self crying all over him.

He shuddered just thinking about it.

No doubt she would want to talk to him about recent unfortunate developments that he sure as hell didn't want to talk about. He doubted he ever would. He'd just rather pretend nothing ever happened. It was easier that way.

He sighed.

_But, unfortunately, Granger is the __**opposite**__ of easy._

Just then, the bell signaling the end of breakfast rang, and all the students got up and made their way to the doors of the Great Hall.

Draco joined them, not as depressed and scowling as usual. He had potions today – his favorite.

He pushed past a few people, Potter and Weasel right behind him, as students barreled through the doors every which way. The brunet was suddenly thrown to the side and he almost collapsed as something was shoved into his hand.

Draco froze when he finally righted himself and felt the crumpled parchment. He opened his closed hand to look at it, when someone shouted in his ear loudly.

"Hey! Get out of the way!" someone yelled gruffly, pushing past him.

That jolted him from his inspection of the parchment, and he looked around quickly for Potter or Weasley, only to shrug noncommittally when he didn't see either.

_If they can't make it to potions, that's not my problem. _

His attention turned, once more, to the parchment in his hands as he started walking down to the dungeons.

After opening the note and smoothing it out, having finally left the claustrophobic, thick crowd, Draco scanned the message. His breathing accelerated and his grey eyes widened incredulously as he re-read the short note, his stomach churning.

_Meet me in the Astronomy Tower tonight at 9 pm  
if you know what's good for you, Malfoy. _

It wasn't the subtle threat that intrigued and bothered him as much as the use of his true surname.

_Someone else knows._

* * *

_**Dungeons **_

"Ah, yes," sneered Snape softly as he checked attendance, "Harry Potter. Our new… _celebrity_."

The word was said with such condescension that Hermione winced. She chanced a glance at Harry and saw him go rigid as Malfoy, who was sitting on his left, coughed. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as he tried, quite obviously, to hide his laughter.

Snape's shrewd eyes flew over to Malfoy and his sneer grew.

"Do you require hospitalization, Mr. Granger?" he questioned, a deadly edge to his voice.

The class turned even more silent, if possible.

Malfoy's eyes widened before he shook his head quickly.

Snape sneered before turning his attention back to the parchment.

A few Slytherins, namely Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggered.

Snape continued with the roll call until every person was accounted for. He looked up afterward, his black eyes taking in the scared first years coldly.

"You are here… to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began, his drawling voice quiet, yet filled with authority.

Hermione felt an intense sense of déjà vu as he continued.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, _bewitching_ the mind, _ensnaring_ the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper on _death _– if you aren't as big a bunch of _dunderheads_ as I usually have to teach."

The slight inflections in Snape's voice gave Hermione chills, as always. It seemed some things never changed.

A long bout of silence reigned at his words, as the students took in what he had to say.

"Potter!" he suddenly said, causing a few people to jump, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione, unable to contain herself, raised her hand, eager to answer. Anything to get the attention off Harry. Merlin, the expression of bewilderment and insecurity on his face was just the same as it had been those seven years ago.

"I don't know, sir," he replied quietly.

Snape sneered as a few Slytherins snickered and, to Hermione surprise, turned toward her.

"Hermione," he called on her, his tone changing to something akin to affection, "Why don't you tell Mr. Potter the answer?"

Momentarily taken aback by the fact that he actually called on her, she was silent for a moment. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she blushed before answering quickly.

"Asphodel and wormwood make a potion so incredibly powerful it can mimic the effects of death, but in actuality, it places the user under an intense sleep. It's called the Draught of the Living Death."

Snape smirked.

"Good job, ten points to Slytherin."

The Slytherins all rejoiced silently and Hermione looked around, flashing them all small, wary smiles. She hated the fact that she was giving Slytherin points, but at least she was _getting_ points from Snape in this universe rather than losing them. She never thought she'd see the day.

Hermione's eyes landed on Harry and Ron's, the latter looking at her with contempt. Her somewhat pleased mood dissipated when her eyes clashed with Ron's ocean-blue, and she slumped a bit.

As she looked away, self-loathing and hate washing through her, she caught eyes with Malfoy who just smirked.

Her lips twitched as she tried to reign in her anger. He was such a bloody prat! He could go and smirk at her in classes, but no, he didn't possess the courage to talk to her!

"Clearly," Snape said, his eyes on Harry once more, "fame isn't _everything_. Let's try again," Snape said, his black eyes gleaming. "Potter, where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"

Harry once again looked stumped at Snape's question, and Hermione's heart clenched.

_Poor Harry._

Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson were still shaking with laughter and the platinum blonde's wand hand itched. Merlin, did she want to hex them.

"I don't know, sir," Harry muttered quietly.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" he sneered, looking down his nose at the eleven year old. "Hermione!" he immediately turned to her and she jolted, "Go on."

She frowned quizzically.

_Why did he call on me?_

Hermione suddenly noticed her right hand… it was in the bloody air and she didn't even _know_. She jerked it down quickly, the blood rushing to her face.

"Uh, professor," she started cautiously, kicking herself for her stupidity, "Well… um, a bezoar is a stone that can help cure most poisons. The stone can be found only in the stomach of a goat. Some wizards and witches have tried to replicate and manufacture the stone artificially because extracting one from the stomach of a goat can be a bit messy and expensive. However–" Hermione cringed inwardly as the words spewed from her mouth. It wasn't like she _wanted_ to do this, but it just came out, totally independent of her mind. It was as though she _had_ to answer every question and, as of now, she really hated herself for it. She could tell from her peripheral vision that most students' jaws had dropped and some were whispering. Many Slytherins were smirking proudly at her and the Gryffindors were sitting defensively, dislike rolling off them in waves. "–when manufacturing it, the effects cannot always be proven to work for some poisons that the actual bezoar can cure. Replication stopped back in the late 1600s when it was clear that artificially creating a bezoar was risky. This is why the bezoar is quite expensive to obtain nowadays."

Snape's face split into a creepy grin as a shocked silence met her words.

"Wonderful, Hermione," he praised softly, "_Twenty_ points to Slytherin."

The Gryffindors all groaned as the Slytherins smiled widely and whispered praises under their breath to her.

She grimaced and unconsciously, her eyes found Draco's once more.

He smirked widely, the only Gryffindor to do so, and clapped his hands together just for her in a soundless and sardonic way.

Hermione clenched her hands together in anger and refused to look over at Harry or Ron. She knew what she'd find – identical masks of anger.

"Hey."

An elbow nudged her and Hermione looked to the side, meeting Daphne's amber eyes.

"'Mione, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she mouthed back, shaking her head lightly as she turned her attention back to Snape.

Now wasn't the time to wallow. She had to focus on this lesson and push her emotion to the back of her mind. Hermione could feel it welling up inside her – the pain, the hurt, the anger, the frustration – _everything_. She didn't want this. She just wanted to go back to her old life where Snape hated her, Harry and Ron were her best friends, and Malfoy was just a stupid, egotistical _prick_.

As the lesson wore on, things got worse for the Gryffindors. Snape swept through the classroom, criticizing those who weren't doing things properly (the Gryffindors) and comparing them to Hermione's perfect potion. The blond was positive she'd never blushed so furiously and for such a long amount of time as she had then. Just as she put the finishing touches on her potion, a loud hissing filled the dungeon.

She turned in the direction of the hissing, watching as acid green smoke billowed from some sort of disgusting-looking tar-like substance. It seemed Neville had, somehow, managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob. Their potion was slinking across the stone floor, burning holes in unfortunate students' shoes. Hermione immediately remembered what to do and climbed onto the free space on the side of her table. Within a few seconds, the whole class had followed her example to escape the acidic blob. Neville, who had been drenched with the goo when the cauldron collapsed, was moaning and groaning in pain as angry, red boils covered his skin.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the floor of the destructive potion with a wave of his wand, "I suppose you added the porcupine quills _before_ taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered frightfully.

"Take him up to the hospital wing!" he spat at Seamus, "It seems I was wrong. It wasn't Granger who needed hospitalization; it was his idiot house mate!"

A few snickers broke out from the Slytherin side of the room, and Snape whirled over to look at Harry and Ron angrily.

"You – _Potter_ – I suppose you didn't think it'd be pertinent to tell Longbottom not to throw the quills in the potion? Though it'd be funny, did you? Thought it would make you look better, eh? That'll be five points from Gryffindor for your self-absorption and carelessness."

Harry looked like he was about to argue angrily when Ron and Malfoy both nudged him, shaking their heads minutely – their own way of telling him not to push it.

Hermione's heart sank when Harry's striking, emerald eyes found hers. He looked at her, acute dislike present on his face and in his eyes. She was about to flash him a small smile when he turned back to Malfoy and Ron. She closed her eyes, frowning, as she tried to stop herself from panicking.

_We'll be friends. We __**will**__. It's only a matter of time._

* * *

_**Hogwarts**_

Draco walked quickly over to the Astronomy Tower, after having conjured a disillusionment charm, since he was an hour past curfew. As he slunk across the walls, he wracked his brain, trying to figure out who it was he'd be seeing at the Astronomy Tower. Who else knew about his and Granger's predicament? Other than Dumbledore, Draco was positive they had kept their situation secret. How could another person have found out?

He had absolutely _no_ idea. He and Granger had been quite careful.

A feeling of dread coursed through his body as he walked up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. Images – memories, really – flashed through his mind. He winced as he thought back to that fateful night when he had to kill Dumbledore. His chest tightened just thinking about it. Everything got drastically worse for him after that. The Dark Lord never forgave him for failing to carry out the deed himself and for allowing Snape to do it for him, regardless of the fact that, in the end, he got the result he wanted – Dumbledore's death.

He shook the unpleasant memories away when he finally reached the top of the steps. He released the disillusionment charm and took another step into the room. The person meeting him here was standing over by the large balcony, the moonlight illuminating her figure.

Draco took a step further, still unsure of who it was. At this angle, he had no idea. All he knew was that the person was a girl and seemed to be in his year.

"Malfoy."

The girl spun around and his heart stopped momentarily at the sight of who it was.

_Shit. Bloody fucking __**shit**__._

"I believe we have _a lot_ to discuss."

* * *

**We should all give a lovely round of applause to my wonderful beta: Jackie! **She is such a sweetheart, and I'm so lucky to have such a wonderful person beta-ing this story for me. I finally have a second pair of eyes checking over my work :) Lots of love to my reviewers: _Mrs. Hermione Malfoy 394, greenpeace10137, monkeygirlalli, krista12, x Dramione-Shamy x, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, ThornsxRoses, Hunter's Heir, buttercup, sweet-tang-honney, 23Nelly, and anidot90_.

_Question: Who do you think Malfoy saw in the Astronomy Tower?_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

* * *

___****____**Tumblr: potterston**_

* * *

_**Twitter: ******__mnadzz_


	6. Frigid Little Girl

**Chapter 6 – Frigid Little Girl  
**

* * *

Quick Note:I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Astronomy Tower ****– 0****9/06/1991****  
**_

"You?!" Malfoy choked out, looking a bit fearful, "I… well, would you look at the time–"

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Yes, it's me, you dunce! Who else? Did you actually think someone else knew about us?"

Malfoy just clenched his jaw.

She stared at him disbelievingly before her lips curved upwards, and she let out a little giggle.

"It's not funny," growled Malfoy, running a hand through his chocolate-brown hair, "I honestly thought someone else–"

Hermione laughed harder, and he just stared at her, completely infuriated.

When Draco opened his mouth, Hermione held up a hand. He snapped it shut and crossed his arms over his chest angrily.

"Please," she breathed, finally stopping to catch her breath, "Don't say anything unless you're willing to embarrass yourself even further."

Before she could say anything more, he promptly turned around and walked quickly down the steps.

"Hey, no, wait!"

Hermione called out to him, composing herself, before following him quickly. He was _not_ going to get away this time. They did have a lot to discuss, and she'd be damned if she allowed him to just turn tail and flee. This was no longer about the lack of conversation between them. Now that it had morphed into Harry and Ron's well-being, she had to act. If they wouldn't allow her to help them, she had to get someone else to help. Who better than Malfoy? They seemed to have accepted him.

_Merlin knows why, _she thought angrily before finally catching up with him and grabbing his shoulder.

"Malf–Draco, _please_, we have to talk! Honestly!"

"Did you not get the message?" he hissed, spinning around violently to glare at her, "I don't want to bloody talk about this, especially not with_ you _of all people!"

Hermione swallowed thickly, trying to push away the small part of her that genuinely felt hurt at what he'd said. She'd believed that maybe this little altercation had brought them closer together.

_I guess I was wrong, _she thought bitterly.

"Fine!" she yelled back, "I don't care! We don't have to talk about our situation, but there is something else we have to talk about," she added, crossing her hands over her chest and returning his glare, "and it concerns Harry and Ron."

"What?" he asked snidely, "Jealous that they like me and hate you?"

Hermione took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to calm herself down. If she was going to talk about this with Malfoy, they couldn't be screaming and yelling at each other. This was _important_.

"No, Malfoy," she said back, deciding to get straight to the point. Less was always more with him, it seemed. "It's about their well-being." Hermione opened her eyes and found his characteristic, cold, grey ones in the dimly lit corridor. "Voldemort is alive and growing stronger each and every day, and _somehow_, that completely slipped my mind. I helped Harry and Ron in our real universe and…" she paused, trailing off suddenly. She wasn't sure how he'd take this. What if he said no?

Hermione grit her teeth. There was _no way_ she'd allow him to back out of this. Until she, Harry, and Ron were a team once again, he was going to help them, no matter what it took.

"… And?" he prompted, an edge to his voice.

"And," she took a deep breath, "that means, since you took my place as their friend, _you're_ going to have to be the one to help them. Not me."

Malfoy stared at her, his previous anger vanishing.

"You're joking," he said flatly.

"Not at all," she replied. "Look, Malfoy, I'll help you. I went through all this before, remember? All you need to do is follow my instructions."

"To hell with your instructions! I'm not following your bloody–"

"So help me, Malfoy," she hissed, cutting him off as her brown eyes grew fiery, "These are my friends we're talking about here. I will _not_ just sit back and watch as they try to figure things out by themselves. I helped Harry fight Voldemort, whether directly or indirectly, many times throughout the years. Without my help," she sighed, turning so she was leaning against a wall, "he and Ron would be lost. Please, just do this _one_ thing for me."

He watched her for a long time, a calculating glint in his grey eyes that she found she didn't like. Hermione looked back at him warily, praying to Merlin that he would relent.

The brunet let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child, "But you fucking owe me one. Got that, Granger?"

Hermione relaxed against the wall and nodded quickly. She would take whatever she'd get from him as long as he would help Harry.

"Thanks, Draco," she sent him a small, relieved smile, "I _really_ appreciate–"

"I know," he cut her off, arrogantly, "Everyone appreciates me. But," his smirk vanished, and he placed his hands over his ears, "if you keep talking _emotion-speak_ my ears will bleed and fall off. There's also a greater chance that I might throw up, and I can't disappoint all those lovely witches out there by getting sick."

Hermione just rolled her eyes before shaking her head.

"Bloody eleven years old," she muttered under her breath, "and talking about getting shagged. Idiot."

"What?"

"I said it's time to talk," she replied bossily, grabbing him by the robes roughly and dragging him back up to the Astronomy Tower.

"OI!" he cried, trying to get out of her iron-clad grip, "These are new!"

She just rolled her eyes and pulled him along more violently.

"Don't complain or I'll talk more about my emotions."

That shut him up.

* * *

_**Great Hall **__**– **_10/31/1991

Weeks had passed and so far, everything was working splendidly. Surprisingly enough, Harry had still secured the open seeker position on the Gryffindor team, regardless of the fact that Malfoy hadn't been there in this universe to steal Neville's Remembrall and challenge him.

However, just because Draco hadn't stolen the ball, despite how much he claimed he wanted to, didn't mean another hadn't. In a slight turn of events, _Blaise_ had taken over his role. With a little bit of Pansy's goading – Hermione truly believed the violet-eyed girl was sadistic – he had easily taunted and taken Neville's Remembrall. This prompted an uncanny sequence of events that closely paralleled those of Hermione's real universe. Harry asked him for the object, Blaise declined and challenged him, and Harry, once again, caught the ball right before hitting the side of the castle. The only difference this time was that Hermione had been _screeching_ at Blaise to stop, and Malfoy had been sniggering behind his hand before looking entirely put-out when Harry caught the Remembrall unscathed, knowing that meant he would get the position as seeker.

She remembered shooting him a dirty look to which he just sent her a shit-eating grin in response and purposefully clapped Harry on the back and congratulated him before he was whisked away by McGonagall and given the position on the team.

Hermione had gotten so frustrated that she snapped angrily at Blaise when he started foul-mouthing Harry and Gryffindors in general later that night, earning her perplexed looks from the Slytherins, before storming off and fuming in her dormitory by herself.

It had always been those stupid little looks Malfoy would give her – whether it was a knowing smirk or a hateful sneer – that had always affected her the most. Sure, the words hurt, but his facial expressions seemed to be setting her off even more than usual nowadays.

She supposed it was because it was Halloween, and the ghostly holiday would be the catalyst for the rest of the mysterious events that would occur this year.

Hermione's nerves had started kicking into overdrive as the holiday approached. Because her classes were so easy – especially today in Charms when they learned _Wingardium Leviosa_ – she found herself with large stretches of free time. Sometimes, she'd just sit and wear herself out worrying about what to do in regards to her predicament, but other times, she'd join her first year Slytherin house mates in the common room to talk. She usually reserved those moments for when she was _dying_ of boredom. Although the conversation was usually interesting, she hated the prejudiced lens with which they viewed the rest of the Wizarding world. She'd learned to bite her sharp tongue to prevent the suspicious looks from her fellow Slytherins.

Many times, her worries would take her to Malfoy. When she had told him all about Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone during their conversation in the Astronomy Tower, he had been surprised and freaked out by the information. After some more persuasion on Hermione's part, he finally agreed, once more, to help Harry and Ron. Despite the fact that he was infuriating and worrying her a lot as of late, some part of her felt bad for Draco. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. She made a mental note to thank him later on.

Just as Hermione was about to eat another bite of her pumpkin pie – it was one of her favorites – Quirrell exploded into the Great Hall in a flurry of robes and melodrama.

"TROLL… IN THE DUNGEONS! TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!" He yelled hoarsely, fear present in his eyes as he ran towards Dumbledore.

"Thought you ought to know…" he trailed off before, predictably, collapsing just as the Great Hall erupted into frightened yells and screams from the students.

Within a few moments, Dumbledore calmed down the Great Hall and sent out instructions.

"Prefects!" he called out, his voice rumbling through the hall, "lead your Houses to their respective dormitories immediately!"

And like that, everything went as planned. The only difference this time was that Ron and Harry had no reason to go and rendezvous with the troll and would be safe.

_At least one good thing has come of their friendship with Malfoy._

* * *

_**Quidditch Pitch **__******– **_11/16/1991  


It was the first match of the season – Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.

Hermione was cheering on Gryffindor – silently of course – and felt no regret or shame. She only wished she could join Malfoy and Ron in the Gryffindor stands to cheer on Harry.

_But they hate me, _she thought bitterly.

Just thinking about their feelings towards her made her eyes water with unshed tears. Taking a few deep breaths, she cheered half-heartedly for Slytherin as her House's team came out, circling around Madam Hooch.

Hermione sat back down quickly, huddling closer to Blaise who was next to her. It was bitingly cold already this November and most students were dressed up in heavy winter overcoats, gloves, and boots. The blond was no exception.

"Cold much, Hermione?" teased Blaise, turning to flash her a quick grin.

"Sh-Shut up. It's t-too f-frigid for t-teasing."

He just chuckled before taking off his scarf and wrapping it around her neck.

"Better, Ice Princess?"

"A bit, yes," she replied, warmth and feeling returning to her neck as she shot him a tight smile. "Thanks, oh chivalrous Blaise."

Blaise just rolled his dark eyes before turning his attention back to the field.

Madam Hooch chose that moment to blast her whistle. Fifteen brooms ascended into the air, and the game began.

Hermione was already nervous, her hands shaking from the adrenaline pounding through her veins and the biting early winter wind. She was so preoccupied with watching Harry that she couldn't find it in herself to enjoy the game – not that she ever really _did_ enjoy Quidditch.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent chaser that girl is and rather attractive, too–"

"JORDAN!" yelled McGonagall.

"Sorry, Professor," replied Lee, not sounding apologetic at all.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and–no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint is flying like an eagle up there – he's going to sco–no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle – that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and–OUCH, that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by the Slytherins – that's Adrian Pucey speeding off–"

Hermione allowed Lee's words to fade out as she watched Harry with hawk-like eyes, waiting for the moment when he would get buffeted around from Quirrell's incantation.

"– misses – GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Catching only that part of the commentary, she got up and yelled. Right before she was about to verbally cheer on Gryffindor, she suddenly remembered she was a Slytherin. Her eyes widened, and she turned to look at the rest of her House. They were all watching her angrily, their eyes spitting fire at her. She did the first thing that came to mind.

"HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO US?!" she quickly changed her words before allowing a look of despair to pass over her face. "_BLAISE_! HOW?!"

A few of the Slytherins relaxed before turning their attention away from her and booing and moaning loudly.

"Hermione what is wrong with you?" the dark-skinned Slytherin asked irritably, trying to shake her off of his arm as she clung to it with a false veneer of despondency, "Merlin, Slytherin is still going to win, no need to get so worked up."

"You're so right," she perked up and left his arm immediately, "Sorry."

Blaise just turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised at her sudden mood change, before turning his attention back to the match.

"–wait, was that the _Snitch_?!" asked Lee.

Everyone suddenly turned quiet as Harry and Terence Higgs both dived down, neck-in-neck as they tried to grab–

A loud uproar suddenly ensued, Hermione joining in, when Flint slammed into Harry, nearly knocking him off his broom.

A few Slytherins, including Blaise and Daphne – who was sitting to her right – once again gave her strange looks.

"I'm angry Terence didn't get it!" she hissed at them, lying through her teeth, "_Stop staring at me_!"

Turning her attention back to the match, she gasped when she saw Harry jerking around quickly.

_It's time!_

"Hey, Blaise, I have to go, I'll be right back, alright? Thanks, give me a moment!" she shouted quickly, making her way through the crowd before he could say anything.

"Wait, Hermione–"

She just continued moving, ignoring his calls for her.

A few gasps were heard as Harry, undoubtedly, jerked again and again and Hermione increased her pace as she half-ran to the teachers' stand.

* * *

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking as he responded to Finnegan's question, "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark Magic – no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

Draco frowned, watching through his own pair of binoculars as Harry jerked around on the broom.

_Hurry the fuck up, Hermione!_

Harry was barely hanging on, and Draco found himself a little more than worried for his, dare he say it, friend.

Yes, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had become _friends_.

Draco was positive he'd need to see a muggle psychologist to sort out his problems when he got back to his real life because he had no doubt in his mind that his growing friendship with Potty and Weasel would leave him scarred for as long as he lived.

_A lot like that idiotic chicken soup book._

He shuddered involuntarily just thinking about it.

"Draco, give it here, let me have a look," said Ron, his blue eyes glued to Harry in horror.

The brunet just sighed before handing it over to the redhead.

"Draco!"

"What?" he asked irritably, still watching as Harry flopped around precariously on the damn broom.

_Where the __**fuck**__ is Granger?!_

If she didn't show up soon–

"Look!"

Ron shoved the binoculars at him and Draco trained them on Harry once again.

"Yes, Weasel, I know, Potter–"

"NO! AT THE CROWD!" he yelled, causing the brunet to cringe, before pulling the binoculars around so they were focused on the teachers' stand.

"Professor Snape?" asked Malfoy, watching as the professor's mouth moved wordlessly, his eyes trained on Harry. "Is he… is he _jinxing the broom_?" asked Draco, frowning.

"It makes sense! Harry saw him with a bloody leg after the Troll incident at Halloween! Maybe he's the one behind all of it! He was the one that tried to get past the three-headed dog!" yelled Ron excitedly.

Draco automatically shuddered at the memory of the dog. Hermione owed him big time for almost getting his fucking head torn off earlier in the year.

"Possibly," drawled Draco, still frowning deeply as he watched Snape.

He knew it wasn't Snape that was trying to get past the three-headed dog. Hermione told him that it was Quirrell. What Draco didn't understand, however, was why Snape was muttering an incantation. Why would he want to mess with Potter's broom?

_I know he hates Potter, but I doubt he'd want to bloody __**kill**__ him._

Suddenly gasps rang out and there was commotion in the teachers' stand. Draco moved his goggles from Harry – who was hanging precariously by one arm – to Snape once more.

His former Godfather was moving away as Quirrell tried to extinguish the flames on his robes.

Everything fell in to place then, and Draco realized what Snape had been doing. He hadn't been trying to get Harry to fall off the broom – he had been muttering the counter-charm!

_Of course, _he thought, relieved that his Godfather wasn't _totally_ sadistic, _I knew he'd never want to kill Potter – no matter how annoying The Boy Who Lived can be._

Shouts and hollers suddenly rang out and Draco looked back up to watch as Harry got back on his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" cried out Ron.

Draco looked over at them in disgust as Neville finally stopped sobbing all over Weasel King's coat.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath before turning back to watch the match.

Harry sped to the ground, his hand outstretched, before he suddenly flew off the broom and tumbled into the grass. A few people yelled out, and Draco winced. That looked just as painful as it had back in his actual first year.

Harry got up on all fours before – _like the bloody hero he is, _Draco thought, rolling his eyes – making a face and throwing up the Golden Snitch.

Despite Marcus Flint's protests, everyone – save Slytherin – erupted into thunderous applause and shouting as Gryffindor won the match. Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes once more and stand, clapping demurely as opposed to outright screaming like Finnegan and Thomas.

"HARRY'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH!" boomed Lee Jordan's ecstatic voice, adding fuel to the riot-like rejoicing, "_GRYFFINDOR WINS, 170-60_!"

* * *

**A big thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed the last chapter: **_monkeygirlalli, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, tezukakuduo, krista12, Annelisse, Impalpable Ash, midnight shadow of darkness, anidot_. Hats off to those who figured out it was Hermione :) For those of you who may be wondering: yes, the pace of this story will be quite fast. You can tell by the time jumps - that's the main reason why I have dates written in the story now after linebreaks. I need to keep myself on track and it gives all of you an idea of where we are in the timeline.

_Question: __What was your favorite part of the chapter?_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

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	7. Close Your Heart

**Chapter 7 – Close Your Heart**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Owlery – 11/29/1991**_

Hermione watched, a slight smile on her face, as Narcissa's sleek, black owl ascended and flew off into the cloudy sky. It was Oberon's birthday today. She'd found out through Narcissa's letters and had enclosed a little something for him within her birthday card. It wasn't much – just a charmed paper that he could configure into anything he'd like without needing a wand. The blonde found it similar to the magical version of Origami. All Oberon had to do was hold the paper, think of something, and it would change into the object of his thoughts.

_I hope he likes it._

She continued to watch the beautiful owl until she could no longer see it soaring swiftly through the sky before turning around and venturing back down the steps of the Owlery. It was time to meet up with Malfoy – they had a few things to discuss before leaving for Winter Break in a few weeks.

* * *

_**Library – 12/22/1991**_

"You didn't find anything, did you?" asked Draco, shooting daggers at Madam Pince's back as she kicked him and Weasel out of the library.

Harry had been waiting for them outside – for Merlin knows how long – and shook his head before leading the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Blimey… strict, isn't she?" asked Weasel King, turning around for a moment to look back at the library, before catching Harry and Draco's eyes.

"No kidding," muttered Harry, his emerald eyes flickering from Ron's to Draco's, "She yelled at me to leave when she found me wandering through the shelves looking for books on Flamel."

"I wish we could ask Pince about books on him, but could you imagine what Snape would do if he found out?" asked Ron, shaking his head, "He would bloody murder us, that's what!"

Harry nodded his assent while Draco frowned.

"Are you guys sure it's Sna–"

"Merlin, Draco!" cried Ron, turning on the boy, "Of _course_ it's Snape!"

Draco just returned his gaze, hesitating. He knew for a fact that Snape was trying to prevent Quirrell from going down the trap-door under Fluffy, but he couldn't very well say that, now could he? They would get suspicious and that would be very, _very_ bad.

"Yeah, Draco. Who else could it possibly be?" questioned Harry, his green eyes locking onto the brunet's grey ones.

"Yeah, you're right," Draco finally said, letting out a sigh as he decided to drop the subject, "Anyway, make sure to try and find out more about him over break if you can. I would owl you and ask how it's going, but France is a ways away and mother and father have a lot planned…"

* * *

_**Platform 9¾ – 12/23/1991**_

Hermione left the train, a smile involuntarily curving her lips. She'd be seeing Narcissa and Oberon again. No matter how many times she tried to stop herself, she really liked them. You can close your eyes to the things you don't want to see, but you can't close your heart to the things you don't want to feel, after all. Somehow, despite everything, she cared for them.

"See them yet?" asked Blaise, moving closer to her as a particularly icy gust of wind swept through the station, "Shit, it's so cold–"

"Language," she reprimanded lightly, her brown eyes finding his dark ones as she raised an eyebrow accusingly.

He just grinned back.

Hermione huffed, crossed her arms, and moved away from him, trying to find her family. She could hear the light tapping of his shoes as he walked quickly, trying to keep up with her.

_No, _she shook her head, momentarily confused, _**Draco's**__ family._

They were _not_ her family. Merlin, what was _wrong_ with her?

As she searched the station, she caught sight of a scene that made her throat burn and tighten. Hermione swallowed painfully.

There they were.

Her _real_ parents.

They were smiling as Draco walked over to them awkwardly before embracing him.

"Ready to go to France, son?" she heard her father ask faintly, his voice carrying because of the wind. "I hope you have everything packed – we leave bright and early tomorrow morning."

Her eyes watered and she sniffed, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm down.

"Hermione?"

Remembering Blaise, she looked away quickly and tried to wipe the tears away.

"Y-Yes?" she asked, her voice a bit throaty.

"What's wrong?"

She just turned around abruptly, shielding her face from him as she looked on the opposite side of the station for the Malfoys.

"Hermione."

The blonde continued to ignore him as she walked quickly through the crowd, trying furiously to pull herself together.

"HERMIONE!"

She finally spun around and looked at him.

"Yes?" she asked flatly.

"What the bloody hell was that? Why were you–"

She just rolled her eyes and forced out a strained laugh.

"Blaise, you're mental. It was… uh… just the wind. It made my eyes water. That's it."

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her. Feeling uncomfortable once again at his penetrating stare, she shuffled from foot to foot, her eyes flashing to the ground.

"Right," he finally responded, his voice thick with disbelief, "Just the wind."

Hermione's eyes flickered to his quickly before focusing on the ground once more.

"Why don't you tell me the truth, 'Mione? I'm not daft."

She drew in a deep breath, preparing herself to lie once again when she caught a flash of blond in her peripheral vision. Her eyes focused on a spot to the right of Blaise and she sighed in relief. It seemed she wouldn't have to lie after all.

"I found them," she breathed, pushing past him and walking quickly over to the Malfoys.

Oberon was the first to spot her. His eyes widened, and he grinned, waving. She waved back, a smile spreading across her face. Hermione's brown eyes flickered to Narcissa and Lucius only to find them looking away from her and deep in conversation. She frowned momentarily – they looked suspicious.

"How do you walk so fast?" asked Blaise breathlessly, throwing an arm around her shoulder when he finally caught up with her.

"It's not my fault you're _so_ out of shape," she responded dryly.

"Just wait until I make the Quidditch team, 'Mione. Then you'll be eating your words."

She rolled her eyes.

"Right," she muttered before finally making it to Oberon.

He gave her a quick hug and she inhaled, wrapping her arms around him.

"I've missed you, 'Mione," 'Ron whispered as he chanced a glance at Lucius and Narcissa, "It's been _awkward_."

She caught on to his double-entendre and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Did you catch them?"

"Twice. The first wasn't too bad, but the second…" he trailed off, a far-away look in his eyes as they widened in horror, "I think I may have to ask you to _Obliviate_ me."

"Ew," Hermione groaned as Blaise's mouth dropped.

"I didn't need to hear that," he muttered, chancing a glance at Lucius and Narcissa who were still off to the side and deep in discussion.

"Do you happen to know what they're talking about?" asked Hermione, frowning as she followed Blaise's gaze.

Oberon just smirked knowingly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you so ambiguous?"

"Just to bother you."

Blaise mumbled something that sounded a lot like "runs in the family" causing Hermione to elbow him roughly and give him a look.

He just smiled back innocently.

"If you don't shut up, I'm asking father to make sure you don't stay with us for break. That means," she continued, smirking, "you'll be with your mum and her new boyfriend."

Panic flashed in Blaise's dark eyes and he made an expression of disgust.

"I hate you."

She smiled sweetly.

"Thanks, oh chivalrous Blaise."

"Hermione? Blaise?" asked a soothing, feminine voice, "How long have you been here? Why didn't you say anything?"

The young Slytherins turned around to see Lucius and Narcissa watching them guardedly.

"Just a few moments," responded Hermione warily before a ghost of a smile found its way onto her face, "Hi mum… dad."

Narcissa's expression immediately softened, and she walked over quickly before wrapping Hermione up in a tight hug.

"Darling, I've missed you so much," she whispered.

"Mum," she responded, her voice muffled, "I write you almost _every day_."

She heard 'Ron and Blaise snicker and turned her head to give them both dirty looks.

"Still."

Hermione took in a deep breath, inhaling Narcissa's wonderful perfume – Calabrian bergamot, orange blossom, and white musk – before finally relaxing into the embrace and hugging back. Truth be told, she missed Narcissa as well.

"I… I missed you, too."

The Malfoy matriarch finally released her, a brilliant smile on her lovely face, before Hermione turned to Lucius.

"Father," she said, suddenly unsure of herself as he appraised her.

"Hermione."

He moved his black cane to his left hand – holding it in the middle – before extending his arms in a hug.

She walked into his embrace nervously, tentatively wrapping her arms around his torso. Catching a whiff of his cologne, she breathed deeply. It reminded her of the cologne Malfoy used in her real life.

_They must wear the same scent._

"Hermione," he paused, "I am so proud of you. I've heard you're at the top of your classes. I expected nothing less, of course, but it is wonderful to have such an intelligent daughter. You have lived up to the Malfoy name."

Unable to stop herself, a small grin lit up her face at his praise.

_Too bad I'm a muggle-born. I wonder how he'd react if he found out…_

She smirked a bit before he let her go and straightened his regal robes arrogantly.

"Blaise," Lucius turned to the dark-skinned boy who was watching, "We are looking forward to having you at our manor this Christmas."

Shaking the hand Lucius extended, Blaise nodded respectfully as the blond patted him on the back, "As am I."

* * *

_**West Wing of Malfoy Manor – 12/24/1991**_

Hermione bit her lip as she sat on the ground, staring heatedly at a wrapped box. She had her other presents all packed and ready in the corner of her room. This was the only gift that was giving her loads of trouble. On a whim in Diagon Alley, she had caught sight of something. It wasn't much, but she thought it would suffice. She felt it was made for Malfoy and, well, she needed to give him something, right?

_Or do I?_

That was one of the many questions that had been plaguing her mind for the past hour as she sat and stared contemplatively at the medium-sized box. What if he didn't send her a gift back? What if he sent the gift, itself, back? What would she do then? Was it appropriate to send him a gift? What if he hated it? What if he never used it? What if–

Hermione shook her head and breathed deeply through her nose. If she didn't charm it tonight, he wouldn't get it at the appropriate time. She had exactly twenty minutes to make up her mind.

Feeling panic come over her, she undid the wrapping and stared at the gift once again, hoping that maybe it would give her the answers she so desperately needed. When nothing happened, she let out a frustrated breath of air. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she watched it, deep in thought.

"Hermione, sweetheart, dinner!" she heard Narcissa's voice through the door.

The blonde jumped before looking at the door a few moments.

"I… I need to change, mother!"

"Five minutes," Narcissa warned before walking away.

The girl's gaze flickered once more to the gift and she closed her eyes.

_Oh, what the hell._

With a flick of her wand, it was wrapped up and perfect once again. Flicking her wand once again, the gift was charmed and ready.

_If Malfoy doesn't appreciate this, he's an idiot._

Sighing, she got up from her place on the floor and walked out of her room, her stomach churning in nervous excitement. She really hoped Malfoy would like it.

_I wonder if he got me a gift._

Despite not wanting to, she hoped he did.

_But it doesn't matter if he gives me a gift or not, _she thought resolutely, _I'm doing this because I want to. Not because I expect something in return._

* * *

_**Paris, France – 12/25/1991**_

Draco was staring in shock at the gift that had just appeared in his room. It was close to midnight and he hadn't been expecting anything – especially from Granger. He got stuff from Weasley and Potter and sent them gifts of course – he had to keep up the façade after all – but he had no idea Hermione was going to send him a gift as well.

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy found himself wondering how someone – especially since that someone was _Hermione bloody Granger_ – knew him so well.

He knew she could have taken it. He knew she was missing her family terribly – maybe even more than him. Yet, she hadn't been selfish, despite the fact that her gift was actually quite a rare find in Diagon Alley. She willingly handed it over to him – a boy who had harassed her emotionally, physically, and mentally for years on end.

His lips curved upward seemingly of their own volition.

It was just what he needed, thinking about it now.

Before Draco could actually start using it, however, a sudden thought struck him and he faltered.

He hadn't given her anything.

Guilt started to seep through his veins and he groaned. She was probably expecting something in return.

A sudden idea struck him, and he grinned.

_Thank Merlin France has a Wizarding market like Diagon Alley._

Nodding to himself, he decided he would ask Arthur and Jean to take him there to find something for her tomorrow.

Draco, once again, stared down at the gift, his hands caressing the smooth, cool glass.

It was a small pensieve.

There was a simple note laying in the bottom of the bowl – it was only a few lines.

_If you miss your family and friends as much as I do,  
then I'm sure you'll put this to good use._

_Merry Christmas, Draco._

_HG_

_PS – Thank you._

* * *

_**Astronomy Tower – ****0****1/05/1992**_

Hermione was waiting impatiently for Malfoy, her foot tapping lightly on the ground. He was late. Why in Merlin's name was he _always_ late?

Just as she was about to leave, she heard footsteps coming up the staircase, and despite the relief flooding through her because he hadn't forgotten, her temper flared.

When he finally made an appearance, she opened her mouth, ready to yell at him.

"_You–_"

"Shut up, Hermione," he said, cutting her off rudely.

She stared at him, taken slightly aback by his tone and the fact that he used her name.

"Excuse–"

"Here."

He shoved something into her hands and she frowned. It was a plain, brown parcel. Her brown eyes flickered to his and she looked at him questioningly, her annoyance and fury temporarily abated.

"What–"

"Why don't you use those hands of yours and open it?" he asked irritably.

She bristled at his tone before ripping off the parcel.

"Why are you _always_ such a pri…ck…"

Her mouth dropped when she caught sight of what she was holding.

It was a thick, brown book. The binding was soft and seemed to be made of leather. What caught her eye, however, wasn't the book itself, for it was fairly plain. Rather, it was the title.

_Hogwarts, Une Histoire._

"_Hogwarts, A History_," she murmured, something in her chest tightening as her hands caressed the letters on the book. She looked back up at him, her brown eyes searching his unreadable, grey ones.

"A Christmas gift," he finally said quietly, "I know how much you like that stupid book, and I saw it translated into French in the Wizarding market in Paris and I–"

"Malfoy," she finally choked out, "You… you actually got me a-a gift?"

Malfoy looked exceedingly uncomfortable now as her eyes started watering.

"W-Well," he stuttered, panic finding its way into his eyes at her display of emotion, "I… uh… you did that with the pensieve and I just wanted… to… um… return the favor? Wasn't this what you wanted? Didn't you expect a gift?"

Her eyes watered even more and everything grew blurry as tears flooded her vision.

"N-Not really, no… I had hoped… but…" she trailed off, sniffling. "This is so kind–"

"Hermione, I swear to fucking Merlin," he said harshly, cringing as a few tears dripped down her cheeks, "If you don't stop with your display of emotion right now, I will take the damned book and leave."

"You don't mean that," she hiccupped, wiping the tears away as she looked at him earnestly, "Your harsh words are just a defense mechanism."

His mouth dropped, and he stared at her, at a loss for words. Hermione suddenly felt the need to give him a hug.

_He probably doesn't even know how to hug people._

She sniggered a bit at the thought, and his face morphed from incredulity to annoyance.

"This isn't funny," he said hesitantly, "And that is _not_ a defense mechanism."

"Right," she gave him a watery smile, her tone indicating that she didn't believe him at all, "Well, seeing as you'll be around Gryffindors for awhile, you had better get used to the display of emotion. Especially since you're stuck with me for Merlin knows how long," she added in a sing-song voice.

"Don't remind me," he groaned.

"But, enough of that."

She wiped her face once again before looking at the book and opening it tentatively.

"Malfoy, how did you know I knew French?" she looked up at him once again, frowning thoughtfully.

He shrugged, "Your parents went to France to visit family over Christmas, so I just assumed. Besides, even if you didn't, I'm sure you wouldn't mind learning the language, knowing how much you _love_ learning…" he rolled his eyes.

"Well… thank you. Really. I never expected–"

"Don't start again," warned Malfoy, his grey eyes flashing, "If you start, I swear to Merlin–"

"Fine," she put her hands up and stepped back, "Time to go on to the next order of business: why in the bloody hell did it take you so long to get here?! _You were a half an hour late!_" Hermione's voice turned shrill as she allowed irritation and anger to wash over her.

She watched as he grimaced and shot her a dirty look. The blonde just looked back at him, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

_He better have a bloody good reason._

"I was… uh… playing Wizard's Chess. With Ha–Potter and R–Weasel."

"On a first-name basis, huh?" smirked Hermione, her brown eyes glinting.

He just stared back at her, clenching his jaw angrily.

"Shut up. Can we just get on with this?"

"Fine," she agreed, rolling her eyes, "Now, this is what's going to happen…"

* * *

_**Gryffindor Common Room – 02/02/1992**_

Draco sat, trying hard to contain his disgust, as Neville practically sobbed all over Weasel and Potter because of some prank. The two were trying to console him and get him to stand up to the attacker, but he refused.

The brunet rolled his eyes. Longbottom was so pathetic.

His grey eyes flashed from the terrified boy to Harry, who was handing him a chocolate frog.

"You're better than them, Neville. Don't let what they say or do get to you."

"Yeah, Neville," chimed in Weasel, "Report them or stand up to them!"

He just shook his head, a disturbed look on his face as he took the chocolate frog.

"Thanks, guys. Um, Harry… do you want the card? I know you like collecting them."

Potter shook his head, but Neville shoved it into his hands anyway.

"I've already got this one, Neville," he replied, his eyes scanning the card of Dumbledore, "I go–wait… guys! I figured it out! I _knew_ Flamel sounded familiar! This is why!" Harry exclaimed, his green eyes widening with excitement, "Listen to this: Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood,_ and for his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel!"_

"_When Harry shows you and Ron the card," Hermione said, her brown eyes staring straight into Draco's grey, "Run into the dormitory and grab the book. Read the passage out loud, pretend like you completely forgot about it – they'll believe you. They'll suspect Snape is behind it once again, and let them, Draco. I understand he's your godfather and all, and you want to preserve his honor, but that's what they think as of now. It's nothing harmful. Let them believe the lie, it's easier than trying to explain why you believe he's innocent when there's no proof to validate your claim."_

Draco jumped back to the present and decided it was time.

"Wait," he called out to them, walking quickly into their dormitory to grab the book.

Coming back, he caught their expressions and quickly explained himself.

"I got this… for… uh… a bit of light reading and I don't know how I forgot…"

He mentally hit himself on the forehead. What a bloody lame excuse. A 'bit of light reading'?

Draco laid the book down on a table, and they all huddled around it as he flipped pages until he finally found the correct one.

"Here it is," he murmured, his eyes scanning the page and, for the first time, actually reading it.

Hermione had told him to check it out of the library, but he never actually cared enough to open it up and have a go.

"What does it say?" asked Ron, his brows furrowed.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"The words are on the bloody page, Weasley. Can you not read?"

The redhead just stared back.

"Here," sighed Draco, irritation seeping into his voice as he pointed to a paragraph in the book, "Read it."

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making  
the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing  
powers. The stone will transform any metal  
into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life,  
which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's_  
_Stone over the centuries, but the only stone currently_  
_in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted_  
_alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his_  
_six hundred and sixty-fifth last year, enjoys a quiet life with his wife,_  
_Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"That's it, isn't it?" asked Harry, looking up from the tome after reading, "That's what the dog's guarding. The Sorcerer's Stone."

"I think you're right, Harry," hedged Draco, "That must be why Snape wants it," he continued unwillingly, pointing to the passage in the book, "so he can live forever and turn whatever he wants into gold."

"Blimey," said Ron, incredulity written all over his face, "No wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that _Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_. He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

* * *

**A big hug and thanks goes to: **_Laura-Ella, Twizard2013, LittleMissHugALot, CrazySue05, reader, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, dreaming of rocketships, foreverellen, Impalpable Ash, and JuliaLestrange. _You are all extremely wonderful and your reviews kept me going and writing. I loved reading them (and re-reading them for inspiration). If I could, I would give you all hugs!

_Question: What are you looking forward to most in this story? (other than the Dramione action)_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

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	8. Alexithymia

**Chapter 8 – Alexithymia**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Quidditch Pitch – 02/22/1992**_

"I don't think I've ever seen Snape so angry."

Draco's eyes flickered to his former godfather. He was refereeing the match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff today. Just one glance at the sallow-faced man was all Draco needed to confirm the fact that Snape was not going to go easy on Gryffindor. The brunet supposed he should feel a bit sad and anxious like Weasel or Potter, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel sorry for Gryffindor.

He was a Slytherin through and through, after all. Cheering for Gryffindor, even if he was in an alternate universe, made him feel as though he was betraying his former, _better_ House.

"They're off–OW!" Ron yelled out, rubbing the back of his head, before turning.

Draco frowned, turning around as well, only to come face-to-face with five well-known people. He swallowed thickly at the sight of Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Pansy, and Hermione.

"Sorry, Weasley," sneered Blaise, "You're so poor I didn't even notice you sitting there."

The brunet watched as Hermione's face contorted into one of anger, and she elbowed Blaise furiously.

"What is wrong with you–" he heard her reprimand, her voice a low hiss.

Turning around quickly and pretending not to hear, Draco focused on the game, more involved than ever. He didn't want to have a confrontation with them; he could only imagine the hell _that_ they would raise.

"I imagine," sniffed Pansy, her high, clear voice carrying loudly, "they pick all your pathetic Gryffindor players based on how indecent and worthless they are. Don't you agree, Blaise?"

Draco could only imagine the look on Hermione's face and, despite the fact that this situation was unnerving, he couldn't help but snigger under his breath. She was probably _furious_.

"You're right, Pans," Blaise agreed loudly, Crabbe and Goyle sniggering in the background as Hermione growled, "Potter has no decent family, Wood has no decent grades, and the Weasleys have no decent source of income. Pity. The only thing we're missing here is Longbottom. He has no decent amount of brains in that empty skull of his."

"BLAISE!" snarled Hermione.

Pansy cackled as Crabbe and Goyle guffawed nastily.

Draco continued to stare fixedly at the game, ignoring them to the best of his ability. It was a bit harder than he expected since the last comment made about Longbottom was actually quite amusing. Surprisingly enough, Ron was also fixed on the game. The only indication that he heard what they said at all was the clenching of his fists and the furrowing of his eyebrows.

"I'm b-better than you b-by a l-long shot, Z-Zabini," stuttered Neville, blushing bright red when they laughed even louder.

"Only if you were in a competition for who's the most _brain-dead_!"

"_Shut up_, Parkinson," said Ron and Hermione at the same time.

Only Weasel's voice betrayed how angry he was at this point. "I'm telling you, say one more word and–"

"Ron, Harry's got it now!" cut in Draco quickly, standing up to watch as Harry dived to the ground in an almost perpendicular fashion.

"I reckon Potter's going to join his _precious_ mum and dad in the afterlife when he loses control and slams into the ground. What do you think, Pa–"

With a fierce yell, Ron threw himself at Blaise. Pansy screeched, Hermione moved away quickly, gasping, and Crabbe and Goyle fell off their seats before scrambling to get up and help their leader.

"HARRY IS BETTER THAN YOU, MALFOY, AND PARKINSON _COMBINED_!" roared Ron, twisting and trying to claw at Blaise.

_Or maybe he's trying to punch his face, _Draco frowned, tilting his head to the side a bit.

He couldn't tell.

Suddenly, they rolled over to Draco and, in his haste to get away, he tripped over a coat and slammed into Blaise's head.

"SHIT!" he cursed loudly, seeing stars, "YOU BLOODY IMBECILES!"

He heard something that sounded like a gasp before feet stomped over.

It seemed Crabbe, Goyle, and Longbottom – the idiots they were – decided they wanted in on the fun.

Before Draco knew what the hell he was bloody doing, he was punching anything that was within reach, his anger and frustration egging him on. Just as he was sure he was about to punch something again, his limbs froze unexpectedly.

His eyes roved around, and he realized everyone else had frozen as well. Draco's eyes flickered upward as much as possible before landing on Hermione. She was standing, her wand pointed at them and her brown eyes full of fire and fury.

"ARE YOU ALL _IDIOTS_?!" she screeched, her voice shrill.

If Draco could, he would have recoiled. Merlin, was her voice earsplitting.

"YOU COULD GET EXPELLED OR SEND EACH OTHER TO THE HOSPITAL WING!"

After staring at them a few more moments, Granger finally released the spell and everyone fell to the floor with a loud _thump_.

"Hermione–"

"Shut up, Blaise. Merlin, I can't _believe_ you would do–"

"Can you get any more annoying?" snapped Ron, his blue eyes flashing to hers.

It suddenly became very silent. Hermione's face morphed from anger to visible hurt as she withdrew and stared at him, speechless.

Chaos erupted.

"LET ME AT HIM!" yelled Blaise, his face filled with anger as he almost threw himself at Weasel. "HOW DARE–"

"Blaise!" cried Hermione, her voice wavering as she threw herself in front of him, "Calm down! Stop! Don't hurt him, please!"

Momentarily deterred, the Italian looked down at her incredulously.

"Are you _mental_, Hermione?!" he yelled, making her cringe, "He just insulted–"

"It doesn't matter," she said quietly. Draco could hear the determination in her voice and so could Blaise. "Just… just leave it alone, alright? I don't want you to get in trouble."

The Italian deflated visibly before taking a deep breath. "I don't understand why in the bloody hell you would defend _him_." Blaise jerked his head toward Weasley. "He's a good-for-nothing blood-traitor."

Weasel's face grew red, and finally taking initiative, Draco stepped in front of him.

"Let it go, Ron," he muttered, throwing them a glance, his eyes connecting briefly with Hermione's, "We should–"

A sudden loud roaring erupted throughout the stands, and the seven students jumped simultaneously.

"HARRY'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS! IT MUST BE A NEW RECORD! WE WON UNDER FIVE MINUTES! THIS JUST GOES TO SHOW HOW MUCH BETTER GRYFFINDOR IS–"

"LEE!" yelled McGonagall.

"Sorry, Professor."

Taking advantage of everyone's momentary distraction, Draco grabbed Weasel's robes and made his way out of the stands. No way in hell was he going to get into another fight and ruin his already rumpled clothes. He had been left relatively unscathed, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.

Besides, it hurt too much to see his former friends – Blaise and Pans in particular – regard him as though he were nothing.

* * *

_**Hogwarts**_

Draco was frowning and walking quickly through the halls, Weasel right next to him. They were trying to find Potter, seeing as it seemed he nearly vanished into thin air after winning the match, but were having no such luck.

Turning a corner swiftly, he slammed into another person. The force of the impact knocked both him and the offender down onto the ground with a loud _thump_.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath as the floor came up to meet his rear painfully.

"Harry?" he heard Weasel King ask, his voice incredulous, "Where have you _been_?! We've been searching for you–"

"Really, Potter?" asked Draco, wincing as his backside throbbed before opening his eyes. "Are you sure you're not off in La La Land?"

Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly.

"You knocked into me, too," he reminded, getting up before glancing at Ron, his eyebrows furrowing, "What happened to your face, Ron?"

Draco ignored him before copying his movements.

"Let's go to the common room and celebrate!" said Ron, grabbing Potter by the hand and starting for Gryffindor Tower, "I can tell you all about it then! Fred and George–"

"No time," Harry cut Ron off quickly. "Something's happened."

"What?" asked Draco curiously.

"Well…"

_Five minutes later…_

"We were right! Snape's trying to force Quirrell to get the stone and I reckon, from what I heard, that there are loads of enchantments and other things guarding it–"

"Wait… so _Quirrell_ is the only thing stopping Snape from getting the stone?" asked Ron incredulously, his blue eyes wide.

"Yes–"

"You know what that means, then, don't you?" interjected Draco solemnly, his grey eyes flickering from Ron to Harry.

Weasel nodded.

"I reckon it'll be gone by next week."

* * *

_**Slytherin Common Room – 04/15/1992**_

"You've got to be kidding me."

Daphne looked up at her from her essay, frowning.

"Hmm?"

"Read this," Hermione sighed, shoving the parchment angrily into her hand, "This is preposterous."

Daphne fumbled with the parchment a bit before finally reading it, her eyebrows rising slightly at the end.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"All at the same time?"

"All at the same time."

"You're joking."

"I wish," Hermione muttered, staring balefully at the letter.

"Who's joking?" asked Blaise, coming around the couch and plopping himself down next to the oldest Greengrass sister, his dark, questioning eyes flickering from her to Hermione.

The blonde heaved another sigh before giving Daphne the green light to hand the parchment over to the Slytherin. The dark-haired brunette dropped it into his hands before turning once more to her essay. The elder Greengrass sister was in one of her moods today. Some days she was happy as could be – annoyingly happy, almost – and others, like today, she was quiet, introverted, and thoughtful. Hermione found she liked her more this way. The girl was quite brilliant in her studies and it was wonderful to finally meet another person who put in a fair amount of effort.

"Good thing is, you didn't know them, right? So no hard feelings."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Blaise scanned the letter.

"Still, Daph. They could have told me _properly_ rather than just mention it in a post script."

"Does this mean," started Blaise slowly, his dark eyes flickering from the parchment to Hermione, "that I won't be able to come over this Easter?"

"I heard it's taking place in France, therefore I'm presuming so. At least that means you get to meet your new father, though, right?"

Blaise's eyes darkened.

"I don't need to meet him to know I'll hate him."

"Blaise–"

"Save it, Hermione," he snapped moodily, "I'm going to go find Theo and Pans."

And with that, the dark-skinned Slytherin got off the couch abruptly and left the common room.

There was a moment of silence as Hermione just stared at the door, unsure of how to go about consoling her friend. Every attempt she made, he brushed off. She knew he was hurting, especially since his mother moved on so quickly after Alessandro's death.

Hermione's attention snapped over to Daphne who was watching her expectantly.

"Er… what?"

The girl just rolled her eyes.

"I _said_, at least I'll see you at the funerals. My family was close with the Blacks – the friendship and bond between the two have lasted centuries. Lucretia Prewett and Cassiopeia and Cygnus Black were both close friends of my grandmother and grandfather on my father's side. Plus," a small grin lit up Daphne's face and her amber eyes sparkled, "because of the rivalry between us and the Parkinson's, Pansy won't be there to aggravate you. Our loyalty is valued more than theirs."

Hermione's lips curved upward in a small smile despite the worry creeping up her spine about Blaise.

"Thank Merlin for that."

* * *

_**Astronomy Tower **_

"Guess what?" sang a terribly familiar voice, "Norbert's here!"

Hermione whirled around from the huge balcony at the side of the Astronomy Tower to see Malfoy slowly walking towards her from the steps.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," he countered, joining her and leaning against the railing. "Is everything going to plan?"

She nodded absentmindedly, "Yes, interestingly enough. We don't have much longer until he'll hatch. I'd say maybe a week or so after Easter break."

"And then…?" he trailed off, lifting an eyebrow.

"_Then_," she echoed, placing emphasis on the word, "Harry will most likely figure out the rest. Just go along with it. Everything I've told you was everything I know and remember."

She hesitated for a moment, her thoughts drifting to the letter she received from Narcissa and Lucius earlier in the evening.

Draco let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Spit it out, Granger."

"They died," she said quietly, "Cygnus, Lucretia, and Casseopia."

"… And?" he prompted.

"_And_? They're your grandparents and family!" she said, surprised and a bit disturbed at his nonchalant attitude, "_Don't you care_?"

He shrugged noncommittally.

"I never met them. We attended the funerals only because it was expected of us. Father hated them because my mother was cast off after Aunt Bella's incarceration. They found some way to blame my psychotic aunt's Azkaban sentence on her. Grandfather Cygnus played favorites, and let's just say," Draco smiled bitterly, "because of the Death Eater work Bella had done, she was the perfect child in his eyes."

"Oh," Hermione breathed, her eyes watching him sadly, "I'm s–"

"Don't say it," he warned, cutting her off, "If you do, I'm going to bloody turn around and leave. Besides, it's certainly nothing to be sorry for. No one liked them, anyway."

The blonde rolled her eyes.

"Merlin, you avoid any sort of emotion like the plague, you know that?"

"Be quiet."

She just smirked.

"See? Told you."

"_Shut up_."

* * *

_**Gorde, France – 04/18-26/1992**_

In contrast to the beautiful, airy days in France during Easter break, the funerals were long, arduous, and lasted the entire day, _every_ day. Although Hermione found herself with Daphne most of the time, it was an unspoken rule during the services that complete and utter silence was necessary, and therefore, they couldn't speak at all.

After the usual services, the wills for the three late members of the Black family were read. The tension seemed to increase as money and property were dealt to members of the family – whether distant or close. To be quite specific, only four people were awarded anything at all and by the end of the week, the fury of many of the snuffed family members seemed almost tangible.

One thing, however, remained the same throughout each will reading: the Malfoys got _nothing_. They weren't even mentioned.

Despite that harrowing, yet expected, fact, the main cause of tension was _not_ due to the fact that the Malfoys were shunned. Rather, it was because the person who was dealt the most was, in fact, in Azkaban.

Aunt Bella was now the richest witch in the world.

* * *

_**Slytherin Common Room – 05/10/1992**_

Hermione was staring dully at the green flames in the massive fireplace, trying to figure things out – mainly, trying to figure out how to go about destroying the horcruxes.

She knew it was a somewhat useless thought right now. Hell, it would be a useless notion until quite a few things occurred.

First, the Gryffindor sword would never _ever_ come to her. She was in Slytherin and it never showed for a Slytherin, she was sure of it.

Secondly, even if it did miraculously show for her, the sword had to be impregnated by Basilisk venom for it to destroy horcruxes, and the only way _that_ could occur would be if she allowed Ginny to once again open the Chamber next year.

Thirdly, she had no idea where to even start. It was a daunting task. She knew where each one was, but what would she do once she obtained them? Right now, she could get the diadem, but did she really want the thing near her?

The answer to that question was a big, fat _no_.

Horcruxes were dark magic – as dark as it could possibly get – and she knew how they could affect people. She, Harry, and Ron had been influenced by the locket not too long ago, after all, and the effects were disastrous.

And that realization brought her back full-circle.

The only option she found she had at this point, which, mind you, she was firmly against, was allowing the events of her second year to unfold like normal.

Hermione heaved a sigh before rubbing her face with her hands and deciding to call it a night. It was past midnight and she had classes tomorrow morni–

The blonde jumped when she heard the quiet _creak_ of a door and immediately turned to look at the staircase leading to the girls' and boys' dormitories, frozen as adrenaline pounded through her veins.

Worry washed over her when she saw Blaise run quickly through the common room and out the door. It seemed he hadn't even _noticed_ her.

Not wasting a second, she grabbed her wand, conjured a disillusionment charm, and slipped out of the room. She was worried about him – what could he possibly be doing at _midnight_?

Catching a whisper of his robes as he turned a corner to the right, she slinked behind him in the darkness, trying her best to be as quiet as possible.

When they finally left the dungeons, moonlight filtered in through the windows and Hermione was thankful for it. It was much too dark otherwise. Her eyes were glued to Blaise's silhouette as he continued to walk through the castle, silent as a mouse.

With a jolt, she realized they were heading to the Astronomy Tower. The question was, however, _why_?

When they finally reached the top – after ducking around and skirting Prefects – Blaise looked around eagerly, almost as though he was expecting something. She frowned, deciding it was time to intervene. Whoever Blaise was meeting here or whatever he was doing, it was obvious that he shouldn't be doing it. Especially because it was after bloody _midnight_.

Not bothering to stay quiet any longer, Hermione huffed and released the spell.

The dark-skinned Slytherin froze, his back to her.

"Blaise, what in Merlin's name do you think you're–"

"Miss Malfoy?! Mr. Zabini?! What are you two doing up here?"

Wincing, Hermione turned around only to come face-to-face with the last person she wanted to see.

McGonagall.

"Professor," she started, her eyes growing wide, "Please, I can explain–"

"Come along right now," she said sharply, her shrewd eyes flickering from her to Blaise, "There is absolutely _no_ excuse to be out of bed so late." Her eyes flashed back to Hermione, "I expected more from _you_, Miss Malfoy."

The blonde's shoulders slumped. She had disappointed her favorite teacher. Turning around, she shot Blaise a desperate look.

That didn't work out too well.

"Professor, you don't understand!" he cried when McGonagall grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him down the steps, "Potter is out of bed, too! He's–"

"Twenty points apiece from Slytherin for your blatant disregard for the rules!" she shouted, "Don't come up with excuses–"

"Professor! Please!" he said desperately, "He has a dragon, I saw–"

"What utter _hogwash_! Don't lie, Zabini! Detention for both of you!"

Hermione's mouth dropped, and she could hear her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Blaise _knew_? How did he _know_? Tonight was _the_ night? Charlie was coming up from Romania for Norbert in just a few moments?! Why hadn't Malfoy even _told_ her?! _She was getting detention_?!

Suddenly remembering this same night many years ago, she looked around quickly for any sign of them. Harry, Ron, and Malfoy would be around here somewhere. They'd be watching this exact exchange. They'd probably even be laughing or cheering silently about it. Maybe she could–

"Come along, Miss Malfoy!" yelled McGonagall.

Hermione jumped. She was surprised her professor wasn't breathing fire at this point – she looked so furious.

Scanning the area once again, she finally jogged and caught up with the two. It seemed she wouldn't be able to tell Harry, Ron, or Draco that they would be losing a hundred and fifty points tonight if they didn't leave right away. Filch was right on their tail and would catch them as they came down from the tower.

She frowned, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Hermione hadn't found any reason to really reiterate the events of this night to Malfoy – he, after all, had been part of it as well – and besides, she didn't think someone would screw it up.

It looks like she had been wrong. Somehow, _Blaise_ had heard about the dragon, and she suspected, in retaliation for how terribly things ended at the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff game those few months ago, he wanted to get back at them. Therefore, he did exactly what Malfoy did those seven years ago and decided to catch them in the act.

Too bad it backfired spectacularly.

And now, because of Blaise, they would all be thrown together – possibly even Neville as well if he was caught – to go into the Forbidden Forest in a few weeks.

The Forbidden Forest that was filled with Voldemort, aggressive centaurs, dead unicorns, abnormally large spiders, and conniving fairies.

_Brilliant. Just __**brilliant**__._

* * *

**A big thank you to: **_krista12, flaming-twilight, Terapsina, Impalpable Ash, Norwegian-Pirate, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, monkeygirlalli, Reader, Katarin Kishika, zombiesasquash, Caspian (thanks for your long reviews, I loved them and agree with your view of Hermione!), CrazySue05, Twizard2013, Somnus Verus, ThatMalf0yGirl, foreverellen, Ilandere Okami, JuliaLestrange, Tisha24, princesspay10, midnight shadow of darkness, SlytherinGurrl, ThornsXRoses, LittleMissHugALot. **  
**_Your reviews inspired me to sit down and write a lot, hence the quick(ish) update. Hearing all your responses for the scenes/moments in this story that you're looking forward to from the question last chapter made me grin :)

_Question: Have any of you read Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream"? If so, take a closer look at the name 'Oberon'. It might be a bit familiar to you... ;)  
_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

* * *

___****____**Tumblr: potterston**_

* * *

_**Twitter: ******__mnadzz_


	9. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Chapter 9 – Down The Rabbit Hole**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Great Hall – 05/26/1992**_

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.  
Meet Mr. Filch in the Entrance Hall._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Hermione and Blaise both groaned at the same time before glancing over at one another and narrowing their eyes. After the night they were caught by McGonagall, they hadn't been on the best of terms. Hermione had demanded an explanation from Blaise for his erratic behavior and that seemed to only result in a complete shut-out. He wasn't telling her anything anymore, and it was aggravating to say the least. She could only pray that his feud with Harry and Ron, as well as his determination to keep her in the dark about his activities, would end soon. He was one of the nicest people she had met in Slytherin, other than Daphne of course, and she didn't want to jeopardize their relationship over the silly, little grudge he had with her former friends and his mother's less-than-savory actions. She wanted to be there for him just as she had been there for Ron and Harry when they needed her.

However, being the stubborn girl she was, Hermione refused to apologize. She hadn't done anything wrong; she had just been worried!

"I thought she forgot about this," muttered Blaise quietly.

The blonde turned her head until she was staring at him, her eyes and facial expression betraying nothing. When he just stared back, she slowly raised an eyebrow.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, really?"

"Yes, really. You've been avoiding and blowing me off for days. I believe I have a right to ask for one you know."

Blaise scowled before looking away, his dark eyes fixed firmly on the note in his hands.

"Fine. I… _apologize_ for my behavior," he replied scathingly, "Are you happy now?"

Knowing that was the best she could get from him – just the fact that he actually apologized was a bit surprising, but she would never tell him that – Hermione released a sigh before catching his gaze.

"Yes," she replied softly, "Thanks, Blaise."

The scowl on his face softened just a tiny bit as he gave her a nod, before shoving the note in his pocket and turning back to his food.

"I can't believe McGonagall is making us go into the Forbidden Forest," he complained, poking angrily at his scrambled eggs, "I thought Dumbledore specifically stated it was off-limits to students!"

Hermione shrugged, her eyes automatically flickering to the Gryffindor table. After a few moments, she caught Draco's eye and he sent her a small nod.

_Good, _she thought, satisfied, _Draco has detention tonight as well._

Her brown eyes flickered back to her toast and she sighed.

"Yes, well… I suppose they decided to make an exception."

* * *

_**Forbidden Forest**_

"I'll be back at dawn to take them to the castle," growled Filch, his beady eyes taking in all six of them, "… if they're still alive."

The caretaker laughed nasally before walking – Blaise called it 'waddle-king' because his gait looked more like a mix between a waddle and a regular, brisk walk than anything else – away from the group happily.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Blaise looked over at Hagrid.

"There's no way I'm going into that bloody forest."

"Mind yer tongue, boy! Yer goin' inter the forest whether yeh like it or not!"

"Excuse–"

Hermione pinched the Italian's arm fiercely, stopping him from saying anything else. Blaise winced before shooting her an angry glance and closing his mouth with an audible _snap_.

"Sorry about him, Hagrid. Blaise doesn't seem to realize how to respect anyone other than himself."

The half-giant seemed very, _very_ surprised that she had said something that _wasn't_ in defense of Blaise. There was a moment of awkward silence as everyone except Draco stared at her incredulously. The stupid brunet was trying hard not to laugh.

"Righ', righ'," Hagrid eventually said, his eyebrows still up to his hairline before he coughed gruffly, "Well, let's get a move on. Follow me over here and listen carefully. What we're gonna do here tonigh' is dangerous and I don' want any one of yeh takin' risks."

After explaining the dangers of the forest, how to use wands to send up sparks for help, and the unicorn blood, Hagrid split them off into groups.

"Alrigh', Ron, Draco, an' Hermione, all of yeh will follow me. Blaise, Neville, an' Harry, yeh can take Fang an' go the other way."

Hermione wanted to hit her head on the side of a tree. Neville, Harry, and _Blaise_? Was Hagrid _joking_? That group spelled disaster in huge, fiery letters. Neville looked pale, Blaise had a dark twinkle in his eyes, Harry and Ron looked aggravated, and Draco looked bored and tired.

The blonde stopped herself from protesting against Hagrid's _mental_ group choice and instead followed behind him and Ron resignedly. Surprisingly enough, Draco was walking in-step with her.

"What? Is Ron too much for you?" she whispered wryly under her breath as they entered the dark, shrouded forest.

"How did you put up with him? Actually, is it just me or is _every_ person in our year an idiot?" he breathed back, his wand out as his eyes flickered from side to side, surveying the area.

"No, they're all eleven or twelve, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes, her sardonic voice barely audible as Hagrid engaged Ron in a conversation about unicorns and centaurs. "Just because they're too young to provide an interesting, intellectual conversation about the size of your wands, or something else equally idiotic, doesn't mean they're stupid."

"Hmm…" his voice immediately dropped lower as they went deeper into the forest. Hermione glanced behind them and watched apprehensively as Hagrid's Hut disappeared from view.

_There's no going back now._

"The size of our _wands_, eh?" he replied suggestively, "It looks like you've given this a lot of thought, my dear Granger," he ended the sentence patronizingly and Hermione found herself feeling a mixture of anger and embarrassment at his sexual innuendo.

Elbowing him hard as the blood rushed to her face, she thanked Merlin it was too dark for him to see her blush.

"Shut up before I leave you without a wand to talk about," she hissed meaningfully, "And that goes for _both_ of your bloody wands."

"Merlin," replied Draco, his nose scrunched as he turned and locked his amused, grey eyes on hers, "you're a nasty one, Granger."

"And don't you forget it," she clipped before brushing past him slightly and catching up with Hagrid and Ron.

They had fallen behind a bit during their banter and Merlin knows that was never a good thing in the Forbidden Forest. Losing sight of Hagrid and Ron was definitely something she'd rather _not_ have to endure, especially with Malfoy of all people.

After another long stretch of time, in which they all ran into Ronan and Bane, the centaurs, Hermione's lids started drooping. She had no idea how long they'd been out in the Forbidden Forest, but she concluded it was at least past midnight. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep the hours away.

She closed her eyes, intending to rest them for just a second, when she suddenly tripped over a root and flew into someone else.

Landing on to the ground with a thump, she frowned and scrunched open her eyes to see Draco looking completely worn-out underneath her.

"Honestly, G–Hermione? What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm s-sorry," she stuttered, getting up quickly as her eyes widened, "I didn't mean to, honestly. I'm just so ti… wait."

She turned and looked behind her, listening intently as a dull, yet sharp, noise penetrated the still, cold air.

"What the bloody hell–" started Ron before his eyes widened as the disturbance became louder and more distinct.

Hermione gasped. Refusing to wait for the others, she began sprinting through the undergrowth despite her aching hands and knees. She'd been waiting for that signal since they'd split up and parted ways upon entering the Forbidden Forest.

Someone was screaming, and that meant only one thing.

_They've seen Voldemort!_

* * *

_**Gryffindor Common Room – 05/27/1992**_

Draco was only half-listening to Potter, his head in his hands, as he tried desperately to ward off the oncoming headache. This always happened whenever he suffered from lack of sleep.

The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Save-The-Day was pacing like a fucking _maniac _and mumbling things under his breath, his hair seemingly growing messier and messier as he became more excited. The brunet could only catch certain pieces of the puzzle Potter was trying to put together and realized it was _tonight_ that cemented Harry's decision to go under that trap door and stop the stone from being taken. What made this situation even more headache-worthy was the fact that Weasel, who looked bloody frightened and was extremely pale, kept randomly interjecting a "_don't say his name_!" whenever 'Voldemort' was said.

Draco swore, if Ron said the phrase just _one more time_…

"… he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen… they must show that Voldemort's coming back…" muttered Harry, his emerald eyes wide as everything slowly started to fit together.

"WILL YOU STOP SAYING THE RUDDY NAME!" yelled Ron.

Draco snapped.

"OH SHUT UP, WEASEL!" he bellowed, yanking his head from his hands to glare at the redhead, "He hasn't been bloody resurrected yet! AND YOU!" Draco's head swung from Ron, who was staring at the brunet, his blue eyes wide, to Harry, who was watching the exchange, a far-away look in his eyes. The raven-haired man's gaze focused on Draco when he snapped his fingers and waved a hand in front of him. "Earth to Potter! HELLO! We will deal with this after exams. I don't know about you dunder-heads, but they're coming up soon, and I'd like to bloody study for them. If Snape hasn't obtained the stone yet for You-Know-Who, that probably means he won't get it before exams are over!"

Ron was about to open his mouth to argue, but Draco cut him off.

"ON TOP OF THIS," he continued furiously, "I have a bloody headache and I'm tired and don't feel well. I don't know about you two, but I suggest we all get some sleep."

And with that, the brunet turned around abruptly and stalked off toward the boys' dormitories, thoroughly exhausted and even _more_ furious than before – it seemed his headache only amplified after what he told Ron and Harry.

About to tuck himself in, the dormitory door opened and Potter and Weasel walked in.

"You're right, Draco," muttered Harry, looking very tired, "We'll worry about this after sleeping."

After Potter changed, a low sound of surprise was heard and Draco turned to survey the raven-haired man, one eye open. Weasel was already fast asleep under the covers and, for once, _not_ snoring.

"What, Potter?" the brunet murmured.

"It's back," he whispered, a tired smile on his face as he held up a very familiar, shimmery, and slightly translucent fabric.

It was the invisibility cloak.

That was the last thing Draco saw before promptly passing out on his bed from exhaustion.

* * *

_**Hogwarts – 06/04/1992**_

"No more studying," Ron smiled happily, "About time, too. C'mon, Harry, don't look so sad. We have a whole week to relax before we get our scores back."

"It's not that," muttered Harry irritably, his hand rubbing his scar, "I just… I wish I knew what this means!" he yelled angrily, frowning, "My scar just keeps hurting. I mean, this _has_ happened before… but not for this long a time–"

"Perhaps you should go see Madam Pomfrey, mate," said Ron, "If it really hurts that much–"

"I'm not ill though," he said, plunking himself down under a tree. Draco and Ron followed, sitting on either side of him, "I think it's a sign… Something bad is going to happen…"

Draco kept his mouth firmly shut as he listened to Weasel and Potter talk. Harry would figure it out soon enough without any prodding from him. The brunet was surprised by how intelligent the raven-haired man actually was. It was Weasel King that was more on the daft side.

"Relax, Harry," said Ron, looking away and surveying the bright, sunny day. It seemed he was too happy to get worked up. "Like Draco said, nothing can possibly happen. Dumbledore won't allow it, and Snape wouldn't be stupid enough to try and get the stone after he almost had his leg ripped off the first time."

"Still… I just have this feeling… wait. We have to go see Hagrid. Right now!" Harry suddenly jumped to his feet and made for Hagrid's Hut.

"What?" asked Ron sleepily, his eyes already half-shut, "What's–"

"He's already left, Ron," sighed Draco before scrambling to his feet and running after Harry. "Get up!"

Focusing his attention on Potter, he called out to him.

"What's the problem? What did you figure out?"

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," started Harry, panting as they trekked up a grassy hill, "that what Hagrid wants the most is a dragon and some masked stranger just _happens_ to show up with a dragon egg? I mean, they're illegal to carry around like that! What are the odds? Especially in Hogsmede! I can't _believe_ I didn't see it before!"

"GUYS! WAIT UP!" yelled Ron, obviously out of breath.

They just ignored him as Hagrid's Hut came into view.

The oaf was outside, his sleeves and pant legs rolled up as he shelled peas. Draco tried not to cringe at the view of his ridiculous, hairy legs.

Ron finally caught up to them just as they reached the hut and the half-giant looked up, a big smile on his face for them.

"Hullo," he greeted, "Just finished yer exams? Got time to come in fer a drink?"

"Yes–"

"Actually Hagrid," Harry cut off Ron quickly, "I wanted to ask you something – it's about the stranger that gave you Norbert. What did he look like?"

Hagrid shrugged before turning back to shelling his peas.

"Dunno, Harry. Never got ter see his face. He wouldn' take his cloak off."

Draco's eyes widened in incredulity. Was the oaf bloody _stupid_?! Who would accept a prize from a card game without knowing who was handing it to you in the first place?!

It seemed Harry and Ron were thinking something along the same lines because a shocked silence descended upon the four of them.

"Hagrid," said Harry cautiously, "are you positive you didn't see anything?"

"It's not unusual, yeh know," Hagrid continued, looking at them now, "Lotsa funny folk come in ter the Hog's Head. He mighta bin a dragon dealer, righ'? I jus' never saw his face."

"Then what did you talk about? Did he ask you anything about Hogwarts at all?" pushed Harry, frowning slightly.

"Oh yeah, Harry. He asked me abou' a few things here and there as he bought me a drink… he told me it was hard to take care o' a dragon an' I told him abou' how, after Fluffy, it would be a piece o' cake…"

"Hagrid, what did you say? Was he interested in Fluffy?" asked Harry, his eyes growing wider.

Draco wanted to hit something. How thick was the bloody half-giant?! How stupid could you possibly be to go around and tell random strangers about things like this?

"–jus' play him a bit o' music and he'll go straight off ter sleep…"

The brunet literally slapped his forehead before following Harry, who looked horrified, as they all ran back to the castle. Finally stopping in front of the Entrance Hall, panting, the three looked at each other in understanding.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore now. Hagrid told either Snape or Voldemort about Fluffy – it must've been easy, I reckon, to get the information since Hagrid was drunk. Where do you think Dumbledore's office is?"

"Follow me, Potter," demanded Draco before turning and heading in the direction of Dumbledore's office, "It's–"

"And what do you three think you're doing?"

Draco paused, his eyes widening as he recognized the voice.

McGonagall.

The brunet winced.

"We have to go see Professor Dumbledore," said Harry a bit reluctantly, "It's urgent."

"And what, may I ask, is this all about?" questioned the Transfiguration professor, her eyes watching them shrewdly.

They all looked at each other. Weasel gulped.

"It's… uh… kind of… secret…" he hedged, wincing when McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left just minutes ago," she said coldly, "He got an urgent message from London and had to leave immediately."

"He's gone?!" they all asked frantically.

"_He left just now_?!" exclaimed Harry, his eyes bugging out.

"Yes, Potter, Professor Dumbledore has many demands–"

"But, Professor," he interjected, "This is really important!"

"What could be more important than the–"

"It's about the Sorcerer's Stone!" Draco finally cut in, growing impatient with every passing moment.

McGonagall's mouth dropped as the books she'd been holding all fell from her hands and clattered to the floor.

"How–why–you three know?" she spluttered, her eyes widening in shock.

"Professor, we know someone's going to steal it," said Harry frantically, "We have to talk to Dumbledore right away–"

"Potter, Granger, and Weasley," she finally said, composing herself, "I do not know how on _Earth_ you found out about the stone, but I can assure you, it is properly protected."

"But Professor–"

"_I suggest_," she said sternly, "that you three go out and enjoy the sunshine."

Neither of them moved as McGonagall gave them another look over her glasses before turning and walking away.

"It's tonight," declared Harry once McGonagall rounded a corner, "Snape's going through the trapdoor _tonight_. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note. I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore shows up–"

"Good afternoon," said a smooth voice.

The trio froze before turning around slowly to find Professor Snape watching them, curiosity in his black eyes.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, an odd smile on his face.

"W-We… we were–" started Draco, his mind suddenly going blank as his former godfather's eyes flickered to his, apparent dislike within their depths.

"Yes, Mr. Granger?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

When Draco said nothing, Snape looked back at Harry, a glint in his eyes.

"You want to be more careful. Hanging around like this, people will think you're… up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, now can it?"

They all grimaced as Snape gave them a knowing smirk before turning around – his black robes billowing impressively behind him – and walking away.

"Alright," whispered Harry, a determined gleam in his emerald eyes as he tugged Draco and Ron over to a corner. "Here's what we're going to do…"

* * *

_**Entrance Hall**_

Draco stood in a corner, scowling, as he watched Hermione from afar laugh at something Blaise said. Jealousy shot through him at that moment. She was so lucky. She got to converse with his friends – his _best_ friends – and he was left trying to keep a sane mind while cavorting with Potter and the Weasel.

It was so unfair.

He stared at her, waiting for her to notice him. Sure enough, she frowned slightly as Blaise turned to speak to Pansy before scanning the crowd. She obviously knew she was being watched. When she finally caught sight of him, her clear, brown eyes widened and after a moment, she gave him a subtle nod.

Draco watched as she turned and said something to Blaise before waving and heading off in his direction. As soon as she was close enough, he grabbed her cloak and pulled her, once again, into the nearest alcove.

"Merlin, Draco," she huffed, her brown eyes flashing angrily, "Do you _mind–_"

"We're going down tonight," he whispered, cutting her off. He wasn't in the mood for one of her idiotic lectures about the rudeness of 'man-handling' and the meaning of 'personal bubbles'. He could care less.

"Through the trap door?" she breathed, her eyes widening as she caught on quickly and dropped her lecture, "Right now? Where–"

"They're waiting for me. I told them I'd meet them on the third floor corridor right in front of the door after I take a quick trip to the loo. I just needed to come and talk to you about it. I know we kind of discussed this–"

"Okay, firstly," she started, her tone becoming brisk as she spoke quickly, "There's Fluffy. When I went under the door back in our first year, Harry played the flute he got from Hagrid to prevent the three-headed dog from waking up. He probably already knows to blow into it, so just make sure he continues to do so otherwise the dog'll awaken. You _have_ to make sure that doesn't happen, Draco. Secondly, after going through the trap door, you're going to fall into a bunch of Devil's Snare. Tell them to stop struggling, especially Ron. When he doesn't listen to you – because I know he won't," she added, rolling her eyes, "–use the spell for bluebell flames on the vines and you'll be fine. Then, we have the broomstick and the key. I told you about that already, so we don't need to go over that. Next, we have the chess match – Ron'll win that one, so just do what he says. The second-to-last room will just have a dead troll in it, so no need to worry, and then, we have the potions room…" she trailed off, thinking hard. "If memory serves, _you_ have to drink the rounded bottle on the right of the line to go back – only one of you can proceed to confront Quirrel – and Harry'll have to drink the smallest bottle there is. And that's it. Now go! Don't keep them waiting!"

Draco's mouth dropped at the influx of information as Hermione practically shoved him out of the alcove. When he looked back at her incredulously, she just waved her hand.

"Do you mind?" he hissed, staring at her angrily, "How in Merlin's name–"

"Go on! You'll be fine… I… I have complete faith in you, Draco," she gave him a small, tentative smile, "I've told you everything, we've gone over it multiple times. It's quite simple really–"

"OF COURSE IT'S BLOODY SIMPLE!" he snapped, "You've already fucking done it before!"

Granger just rolled her eyes irritably before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh have some faith in yourself, will you? If I believe in you, then shouldn't _you_ believe in you?"

"It's hard to do that when most _everyone_ thinks you're a bloody failure in your real life!" he snarled bitterly.

"Draco," she sighed, walking toward him, "_I_ don't think you're a failure. Despite your idiotic tendencies, lewd suggestions, and, at times, barbaric behavior, I think you're actually quite tolerable," she ended wryly.

"Ha ha," he replied, trying to straighten his robes, "You think you're _so_ hilarious."

"No," she clipped, "_you_ think _you're_ hilarious. Now get a move on before I have to march you over there myself. Could you imagine how embarrassing that would be?"

"Right," he muttered before walking away.

Pausing right before rounding the corner, he turned around to see the blonde hugging herself and looking away, deep in thought.

He rolled his eyes.

"Hey," he called out, "Stop bloody worrying."

Granger's eyes flickered to his in surprise before she grimaced.

"Easier said than done, don't you think? Just… _please_ come back in one piece. If something happened to any of you…" she shook her head and took in a deep breath, "I'd hate myself."

"I know you would," he responded before turning around, "and the only person that's allowed to hate you is _me_, Granger."

"Does that mean you'll try your hardest?" she called out, anxiety coloring her voice.

"Unfortunately," he muttered under his breath before unwillingly entering the tower of moving staircases.

Sadly, it was time to pay Fluffy a visit.

* * *

_**Slytherin Common Room**_

Hermione couldn't sleep. It was an impossible task at this point. All she could think about was whether Draco, Harry, and Ron were still alive and well. Like she told Draco before, if anything happened to either of them, she'd hate herself. She was Harry and Ron's friend – their _best_ friend – and she'd be damned if she let them take care of themselves. They would fail miserably, anyway. She'd always been like a mother hen to Harry and Ron, and despite the fact that they held no amiable feelings towards her at this point, she wasn't going to just stop. She still had faith that they would come to like her later on – they just needed to get to know her. And, until then, she'd look out for them in any way possible through Draco.

Hermione sighed loudly before putting her head in her hands. This waiting game was hell.

_I wish I had some Sleeping Draught!_

A sudden idea struck her.

_Maybe I could just spell myself to sleep…_

She sat straight up and grabbed her wand. The blonde had never performed a spell on herself and wondered if it would actually work.

_There's only one way to find out…_

She pointed the wand at her forehead before tilting her body to make sure that if it did work, she'd fall asleep on the couch and not the floor.

Hermione had barely muttered the charm when everything went dark. The last thing she registered was her wand falling from her hand and clattering on the stone floor as her head hit the cushions.

* * *

_**06/05/1992**_

Hermione jolted awake and looked around, her eyes wide and frantic.

_What time is it?!_

Judging by the light emanating from the water of the Black Lake, she assumed it was time for breakfast. But, more importantly, it was time to find out whether Harry, Ron, and Draco had made it alright. Not bothering to do much other than brush her teeth, splash water on her face, and feel immense satisfaction at the fact that she successfully charmed herself to sleep last night, she ran out of the Slytherin Common Room and to the Great Hall.

* * *

_**Entrance Hall**_

Draco, exhausted, was waiting just outside of the Great Hall and was very surprised. He'd been expecting Hermione to come rushing to him for the past ten minutes and was now thoroughly shocked that she was late. The brunet suspected she would be the first person up this morning in her haste to come and ask him questions and ensure Potter and Weasel were alright.

Sighing, he decided it was time to go in. Although Granger's disappearance was _slightly_ disturbing, that didn't mean he was going to go to classes on an empty stomach. Draco was absolutely _starved_.

About to enter the hall, he paused at the sound of footsteps. Turning around, he reckoned it was Ron – the bloody red-head had been snoring soundly this morning, and Draco had been unable to wake the idiot up. After screaming in his ear, he left the boys' dormitories. If Weasel wanted to skip breakfast, it wasn't about to be his problem.

The last thing the brunet heard was a feminine gasp before he was bombarded by a familiar, petite blonde.

"DRACO!" Hermione yelled in his ear as she threw her hands around his neck. He cringed. The throbbing in his head was now reminiscent of the hangovers he used to get back in sixth year. "MERLIN, YOU DID IT! YOU'RE ALRIGHT!"

Trying to relax seemed to be an impossible task seeing as fucking _Hermione Granger_ was hugging him. _He was being hugged by Hermione Granger_. He felt the need to pinch himself to make sure this wasn't a dream… or a nightmare.

"Are… are you hugging me?" he choked out, his eyes wide and his posture rigid.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Hug her back? That thought seemed extremely unappealing seeing as he'd never hugged anyone other than his mother.

She suddenly flew out of his arms, her face red.

"I… um…"

The awkwardness of the situation was tangible, and Draco felt as though he was slowly asphyxiating.

"We can pretend this didn't happen," he said quickly, looking down and fixing his robes to avoid her eyes.

After a few moments of silence, she finally responded.

"Right," she whispered, her voice sounding strange, "I… I'll catch you, er, later? Ron must be sleeping and I'm guessing Harry is in the Hospital Wing. I…" she trailed off, and he looked up, catching her brown eyes hesitantly. She looked away immediately.

"I have t-to be somewhere… somewhere, uh, other th-than… here," Hermione stuttered, grimacing a bit and blushing even more furiously, before practically sprinting into the Great Hall.

Draco was frozen. Unable to move a muscle, for he was so shocked, he just stared at the spot where she'd last been, wondering what in the bloody hell just happened.

* * *

_**Platform 9¾ – 06/20/1992**_

Hermione got off the train with Blaise right on her heels. They were finally back – Summer break had officially started and she would have time to dwell on the horcruxes without worrying about Draco, Harry, Ron, or her grades. It was a great feeling.

"I found them," whispered Blaise, grabbing Hermione and pulling her over to the side.

"Where?" she asked anxiously, her eyes darting around the platform as she searched for Antonia and her new husband.

He pointed them out, and Hermione studied the two. They seemed to be in some sort of fight.

"I… I'm sorry you have to go through this, Blaise," she murmured, turning to look at her friend sadly.

His eyes were glued to the two with a mixture of anger and sadness.

"Yeah, well… I'll see you around, Hermione. Make sure you write–"

Before the blonde knew what she was doing, her arms were around Blaise as she gave him a tight hug. It seemed she was going around and hugging Slytherins a lot more now. She flushed a bit at the memory of her hug with Draco before shoving it from her mind.

"It'll be fine. I'm sure you'll like him," she said into Blaise's cloak.

He stiffened for a moment before his arms wrapped around her as well.

"Fat chance," he muttered.

Although she couldn't see his face, she could practically _hear_ his scowl.

"Besides," Hermione continued, giving him a small smile as she pulled back, "if you can't take it, there's always room for you in Malfoy Manor. You know how much my father and mother love you and Antonia. It would be no problem at all."

He smirked.

"You're going to miss me, aren't you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes before hitting him lightly on the arm and trying hard to stop herself from smiling.

"Merlin, you boys are all the same – egotistical prats."

"I _might_ miss you too… I'm still debating it–"

She really hit him, then.

"Okay, okay! Sheesh," Blaise grinned cheekily as he rubbed his injured arm, "Don't worry, you'll see me a lot. No need to get so worked up."

"Gods, you are such an arse," she muttered, "Go greet your mother, will you? I'll see you later."

"Bye, Hermione," he paused, giving her a soft smile – which she returned – before turning around and heading toward his mother and step-father.

Looking around, she finally caught sight of the Malfoys and grinned before walking over to them quickly.

Narcissa was the first to hug her, and Hermione returned it eagerly, inhaling her perfume.

"Hermione," she breathed, pulling back and smiling, "Ready to go home?"

The blonde nodded tentatively, flashing Narcissa a small smile, before giving Oberon a quick hug and then Lucius, who praised her on placing at the top of her classes this year.

"What would you like to celebrate?" he asked her, pride flashing in his eyes after they apparated to the manor, "Name it and it's yours. Horses? A trip to–"

"Nothing, really. I'm fine, father. I'm just glad you're happy," she cut in quickly, a little alarmed at his penchant for spoiling her.

He smirked down at her, his grey eyes flashing.

"No matter, I know just what to get you…"

Hermione tried hard to smile and hoped to Merlin it didn't come out like a grimace. If _that_ didn't sound ominous, she didn't know what did.

When they finally entered the manor, Lucius summoned a house-elf before leading them out onto the grounds.

"Father?" she asked as she surveyed the beautiful, rolling hills of Wiltshire suspiciously, "May I ask what we're doing?"

"Well," he started, shrugging off his outer cloak and throwing it brusquely into the hands of a house-elf. Hermione bit her tongue to stop herself from preaching about house-elf rights. "I thought it was time to brush up on a few skills before your second year starts. Let's just say I'm giving the Slytherin House a certain… gift."

Hermione had a bad feeling about this. A _very_ bad feeling. The negative emotions building up inside her only strengthened when one of the elves popped back with three brooms in hand.

The blonde swallowed hard.

"What are you saying, father?" she said cautiously as she eyed the brooms with a mixture of fear and trepidation.

Lucius smirked as he handed one of the brooms to Oberon, who was grinning madly, and the other to Hermione, who was starting to feel slightly nauseated.

"Since I'm gifting the Slytherin team a whole set of these, I thought it would be… _prudent_ of you to overcome your fear of flying," he said silkily, a double meaning to his words.

Hermione's eyes widened comically when she finally understood what Lucius meant.

He was forcing her to play in Slytherin this year… _she was going to be their new_ _Seeker_.

-xxx-

**End of Year 1 **

-xxx-

* * *

**A big thanks to: **_midnight shadow of darkness, Ilandere Okami, Krista12, Oth23, Somnus Verus, SlytherinGurrl, Tisha24, princesspay10, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, LittleMissHugALot, ThornsXRoses, The Last Poison Apple, shrishti .1701._ Just to let all of you lovely readers know, I'll try my hardest to update every weekend. So, if all goes well, expect Ch. 10 in a week :) I know some of you may have wanted me to add the scene with Draco, Harry, and Ron going into the trap door, but I thought it would be a bit repetitive since everything goes well and is basically the same as the book - the only exception being that things go along faster since Draco knows what to expect. I'm sorry to those of you who wanted to read it! On the upside, this is a longer chapter _and_ we get more from Draco's POV :)

_Question: How do you think Hermione is going to solve the problem of Riddle's Diary this coming year?  
_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

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_**Twitter: ******__mnadzz_


	10. Head Over Heels

**Chapter 10 – Head Over Heels**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

**_Malfoy Manor – 06/30/1992_**

Hermione was clenching her jaw so tightly, the blonde was surprised her teeth hadn't broken into tiny pieces yet – she was _that_ surprised. Although she knew the gift her father had just now given her shouldn't have elicited such a deep reaction – seeing as they were pure-bloods – the fact that Lucius bought her a house-elf as a reward for her brilliant grades still came as a shock. Somewhere in her mind she knew she would have to encounter house-elf enslavement while living with the Malfoys, but she had always thought of those elves belonging to her quasi-father, Lucius, _not_ to her, and had shoved that problem off into the realm of _Not Going to Worry About It_. It seemed she was wrong – she _would_ have to worry about it now.

"Well, sweetheart?" asked Narcissa anxiously, "What do you think? Your father came up with this wonderful idea after he got your exam grades, and although you said you didn't want anything, we just _had_ to get her for you. Most pure-blood families wait until their children are older to buy them their own house-elf, but you displayed so much responsibility this past year. That, coupled with your immaculate grades… well, we thought you deserved a surprising treat."

"Oh, it's surprising alright," Hermione choked out, her eyes flickering between the scared house-elf and her mother and father, "But perhaps it's a bit… much?"

"If Hermione doesn't want it," interjected Oberon slyly, "I wouldn't mind–"

Narcissa shot the boy a look and he quieted, a smirk settling on his face.

"Of course it's not too much, darling!" said Narcissa, a smile on her face as she gave Hermione a soft hug.

The girl shot daggers at 'Ron who was sniggering behind his hand at the outward display of emotion.

"You know we love spoiling you."

"Unfortunately," she mumbled under her breath, trying hard to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

This was absolutely ridiculous. She couldn't even set the house-elf free if she wanted to because it would look too suspicious. Resigning herself to an alternate life with a house-elf, Hermione sighed. She decided right now that she would make sure to be the kindest owner to have ever lived.

When Narcissa finally released her, she looked over to her father, who was deep in thought.

"Father," she started tentatively, "what's her name?"

"Fay," he said absentmindedly, not noticing as Hermione grew pale, before straightening himself out and nodding, "Enjoy the house-elf, Hermione. I'll see you at dinner," he turned to Narcissa now, "I have urgent business at the Ministry."

This couldn't possibly be a coincidence, could it? Her house-elf was named 'Fay' and everyone in the bloody English-speaking world knew that 'Fay' was another name for 'fairy'. If Hermione had any doubt at all about whether the fairy was keeping a close eye on herself and on Draco, it vanished at that precise moment. It seemed that even a year into their punishment the fairy was _still_ playing tricks on them, yet was as elusive as ever.

"Of course, Lucius," nodded Narcissa, bringing Hermione back to the present, before walking over and giving him a quick peck on the cheek and successfully making Oberon cringe. The former-Gryffindor hid a smile at his reaction. "Tonight it is."

* * *

_**07/01/1992**_

Gripping the blasted broom in one hand, Hermione steeled her nerves.

Gods, did she hate this.

Because of the upcoming Ministry Raids, things had been a bit hectic at the Malfoy household. They were scheduled for late July and early August, and Lucius had been flying around the manor like a maniac – even more irritable than usual – as he tried to hide, what he called, 'precious family heirlooms'. Hermione liked to call them what they truly were: Dark artifacts. If she recalled correctly, Arthur was one of the people heading the Raids. She knew she guessed right when she overheard Lucius maligning the man, and the Weasleys in general, every chance he got during one of his infamous political dinner parties.

Merlin, did she hate _those_ too. They were worthless parties organized for the sole reason of ostentatiously bragging about one's worth, value, and prestige. After the first two hours of non-stop arguments and politics, she had casted a _Muffliato_ on Lucius's conversations with his fellow Ministry frenemies and former-Death Eater pals. If she had to continue hearing about the price of stocks in the Ministry, rigging elections and court sentences, and debates upon different political topics – all the opinions were skewed in some shape or form by traditional pure-blooded ideology – she'd go mad.

Hermione gulped as she watched Oberon mount his broom and take off into the partially cloudy sky. This would be the third time she'd be riding a broom and the same feeling that overtook her the first time – the feeling that she was slowly approaching her demise – was _still_ there. It may have even been strengthened from the atrocious way she'd been flying the past few times, too. Although she had flown when absolutely necessary over the years, she was still _so_ ridiculously cautious about it. The simple act of holding onto a broom and steering herself through the skies took up so much of her concentration that she couldn't even _fathom_ how hard it would be to try and catch a bloody _flying object_ while doing so.

Just the thought of it made her stiffen with fear. Merlin, she was going to make a complete and utter fool of herself on the Quidditch Pitch this year, and all the Slytherins would hate her. If Lucius hadn't found a problem with her just yet – which, interestingly enough, he hadn't – Hermione knew that _this_ would be the cause of his imminent displeasure. At least she was dedicated enough to get the top spot in her year, so he wouldn't get _too_ furious when she failed miserably.

Yet… even though she knew all of this, that same feeling – the feeling of needing to succeed and achieve excellence – was strong. Despite her fear and her horrid flying skills, she wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be able to fly and to fly _well_. Although this was a terrible twist of fate, she wanted to learn and grow from it anyway and, by doing such, become an okay flyer. At least, by her standards. She wanted to be someone who wouldn't cringe at the thought of flying hundreds of feet from the ground. If nothing else, Hermione hoped to at least learn this from her lessons with 'Ron and Lucius.

"Hermione!" she heard Lucius demand from about a hundred feet above her, "What are you doing? Get up here!"

"Right!" she squeaked, fear flooding her once again as she came back to the present, "Coming!"

Swallowing her terror, she mounted the broom tentatively – clumsily, too – and slowly ascended, trying hard to focus on Lucius's long, perfect, blond hair rather than the fact that a fall, at her height, would kill her.

_It's so shiny and blond…_

* * *

_**07/29/1992**_

"You can't just treat him that way!"

"Know your place, Hermione!" hissed Lucius coldly, "This worthless elf is just that – an elf. Nothing more. How dare you even _defend_ him? Have I brought you up so terribly that you can't seem to even distinguish between those above and beneath you?"

"Lucius–"

"Dobby didn't do anything wrong!" she yelled back, getting up from the dining table, "Just because he was gone for a moment–"

The elf in question whimpered in a corner of the room, terrified.

"_Hermione–_"

"_He is my house elf_!" snarled Lucius, his normally cool demeanor melting into the harsh fury that Hermione recalled Draco warning her about. "He does _not_ belong to you, nor do you have _any_ claim over him or _any_ say in my actions! BEHAVE–"

"LUCIUS!" yelled Narcissa, angry that the two hadn't even acknowledged her the past few times, "HERMIONE! STOP THIS _NOW_!"

The two turned to look at Narcissa who was fuming.

"If you want to argue," she said, her voice dangerously low and her expression terrifying, "do it on your own time. This is the _third_ time I've heard you both yell about something so insignificant. It is dinner time and we _will_ sit down and eat properly without any barbaric yelling and insults. _Understood_?"

The rest of the dinner went by silently.

* * *

_**Flourish & Blotts – 08/15/1992**_

The Raids were finally over with and Hermione honestly couldn't be happier. Lucius wasn't as aggravating now and was treating Dobby a bit better. Hermione surmised that the house-elf had been the outlet for all of his anger when it came to the Raids, and since the Ministry came up empty-handed, he seemed to be in a significantly better mood. After fighting numerous times with him about the wonderful house-elf, she finally let the topic go. She didn't want to push her luck.

Dobby, sadly, had her in the same boat. She told him she knew what he was doing – that he was trying to warn Harry about the Chamber of Secrets this year – and, Merlin, did she try to get him to lay off. Unfortunately, however, the elf didn't answer to her. He rejected her advances, proclaiming – after hitting himself quite a few times with a book of hers – that he _had_ to help Harry before vanishing with a _crack_. After trying to get him to change his mind quite a few times, she finally just gave up.

And now, she was waiting on the second floor of Flourish & Blotts, her books in a pile on the floor next to her, as her mind wandered. Lucius and Narcissa had some business to attend to in Knockturn Alley, or in other words, they were selling some Dark artifacts that they didn't want her to know too much about. Although she had accompanied Lucius in the first time, he had instructed her and 'Ron to stay in Flourish & Blotts, only after finding the correct books needed for the school year, so he could tie up some loose ends with Narcissa before she left to meet Antonia for a cup of tea.

Hermione tried not to dwell on what Lucius was doing too much.

On the other hand, her flying had, surprisingly enough, improved significantly over the past month. Although she was nowhere near Seeker-status, she finally felt somewhat comfortable when flying. Although the nauseating feeling before mounting the broom always appeared right before she took off, the rest of the anxiety accompanied with the activity was all but gone. It was a wonderful feeling. Now, she just had to master actually trying to catch things before school started once again…

_Fat chance that will ever happen, _she thought, snorting.

As far as she knew, she was a goner.

Dragged from her thoughts by loud applause and the sound of cameras going off, Hermione turned her attention back down. She spotted none other than Gilderoy Lockhart smiling for the cameras as he made his appearance for the book signing.

Hermione frowned when she caught a small smile on her face. She had been _smiling_? How could she possibly still be even _remotely_ attracted to that idiot? Despite his wonderfully charming looks – blond, winning smile, and perfect hair – he was an imbecile who deserved to be locked up in Azkaban for _Obliviating_ so many inventive and talented wizards and witches to achieve fame. He was practically obsessed with it, after all. She shook herself out of it and allowed her eyes to wander through the crowd as he spoke with such self-importance. It was revolting.

The blonde suppressed a smile when she caught Harry, Ron, and Draco – she tried not to think about him too much this summer – rolling their eyes and sending each other looks. It was quite amusing, and a bit disturbing, how close the former-Slytherin was with her two friends.

_If only they would give each other a chance back home._

Oh, the possibilities.

"What are _you_ smirking at?" asked Oberon belligerently, his grey eyes watching Lockhart with such distaste that Hermione couldn't help but grin.

"Oh come off it, 'Ron. You're jealous."

"Please don't tell me you like this idiot," he pleaded, turning to look at her, "'Mione, you're smarter than this–"

"No," she rolled her eyes, "I no longer like him."

"You _used_ to, though? Ugh, sick," he muttered, revolted, "The guy's a pompous _arse_!"

"Oh, and you're no better?" she parried, raising an eyebrow playfully, "Who was the guy proclaiming he'd become Seeker next year and best Ha–Potter while doing tricks on his broom just a few days ago?"

Oberon rolled his eyes.

"That's _completely_ different."

"Sure," Hermione muttered unconvincingly, "Whatever you say."

He just smirked cockily before turning and walking abruptly down the steps.

"Hey!" she frowned, "Where are you go… ing…"

Lucius was back.

Rushing down the steps, she came to a halt at the bottom only to be greeted with a few looks of loathing from the older Weasleys, a surprisingly searching glance from Ron, a guarded look from Harry, and no eye contact from Draco.

Hermione wasn't going to deny it; that hurt a bit.

Swallowing thickly, she focused on the argument between Arthur and Lucius. It was nothing if not one of the more tension-filled, passive-aggressive conversations she'd ever heard.

"–what's the use of being a _disgrace_ to the name of wizard, if they don't even pay you well enough for it?" asked Lucius coldly, his grey eyes glinting as they settled on Hermione's parents, who were watching warily from the sidelines.

Hermione clenched her jaw and hands to stop herself from doing anything rash as Arthur grew red in the face.

"We have a _very_ different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, _Malfoy_," said Arthur angrily.

"And I thought your family could sink no lower–" started Lucius sikily.

Hermione gasped as Arthur suddenly threw himself at the older Malfoy, and the Weasleys – namely Fred and George – starting chanting and egging him on. Molly was screaming at Arthur, and all the employees were trying fruitlessly to calm the two men down. She caught sight of Draco for a moment as he just stared at the scene, resignation, anger, and disgust in his eyes. Before he knew she was watching him, Hermione's eyes flickered back to the brawl. Feeling hopeless, she was about to cast an _Immobulous_ when Hagrid finally stepped in and stopped the fight.

Straightening his robes and hair, Lucius was a picture of fury – his black eye seemed to only add to it – as his lip curled and his eyes glittered with deep-rooted hatred at Arthur and then at Ginny.

"Your book," he hissed, shoving the Transfiguration tome into Ginny's hands and nearly knocking the girl over, "Seeing as it's the best your father can afford you, it would be prudent not to lose it. Oberon!" he snapped, his rage-filled grey eyes flickering from the Weasleys to Hermione and the younger Malfoy, "Hermione! Come."

And with that, he swept away, Oberon sneering at the Weasleys before following quickly.

Hermione paused before making a split second decision. Subtly muttering a quick jinx under her breath, she aimed her wand inconspicuously at Ginny's caldron. The young redhead lost her balance and fell to the ground, her school books scattering everywhere. Chancing a glance at Lucius, she quickly rushed over to help before anyone else could react.

The blonde could almost _feel_ the astonishment from the Weasleys – their silence was quite telling – as she rapidly threw Ginny's books back in the caldron and tried not to blush.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the redhead.

Ginny just stared at her, her brown eyes wide with shock. Seizing the moment, she slyly nicked the horcrux diary – _thank Merlin for long Wizarding cloaks_, she thought, relieved that no one could see her do it – before helping the redhead up.

Not one of the Weasleys had moved – they were all so shocked at her very _un-Malfoy-like_ behavior.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly, her eyes flickering between striking emerald, ocean blue, and cool grey, before rushing out of the book store.

* * *

_**West Wing of Malfoy Manor**_

Hermione was sitting on the floor – much like she had last Christmas while thinking about what to give Draco as a gift – only this time, she wasn't staring at a small pensieve. Oh, no no _no_. She was staring at one of the pieces of Voldemort's soul and deliberating – something that was _infinitely_ more important and life-altering.

_What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with this?_

Her split second decision at Flourish & Blotts was coming back to haunt her now. She _had_ to have the Gryffindor sword impregnated with the Basilisk venom. That was, quite literally, the only feasible way she could even go about destroying the horcruxes. Even if the sword didn't appear for her, she _still_ needed the basilisk venom. Although Fiendfyre destroyed horcruxes, she wasn't about to try and control it – she knew the cursed fire had no master and she'd rather live and get back to her old life, thank you very much. Hermione had heard Harry speak in Parseltongue enough times before to know how to enter the Chamber later on if she _had_ to, regardless of whether she _wanted_ to or not. The only issue was the still-living and breathing Basilisk roaming around down there and waiting for its master to return and wreck havoc.

Although leaving it with Ginny would have been the much easier and better option, that didn't mean it was the _right_ one. No one should ever have to go through the mess that Ginny had to, and during her _first year_, too! The poor girl had been possessed and had almost died for Merlin's sake! She was Hermione's best girl friend, and she had almost _died_.

No, she wouldn't allow Ginny to go through that again. The guilt and the knowledge would kill her if she did.

_Then… then that means…_

Hermione's line of reasoning left her with only one option. One very terrifying and dangerous option.

The blonde swallowed painfully as an intense feeling of foreboding swept through her body.

It seemed she'd be meeting the infamous heir of Slytherin, himself – Tom Marvolo Riddle – this year.

* * *

**A hugemungo thank you to: **_ThornsXRoses, Twizard2013, mh21, svowles1690, wtff-stfuu, C .kiss, princesspay10, krista12, whenthesnowmelts, JuliaLestrange, BeWhoYouAre99, Caspian, The Last Poison Apple, warrior-of-water, Laura-Ella, Like A Clockwork Orange, LittleMissHugALot, Kim malfoy, SlytherinGurrl, Ashley, NinjaClarinetGirlBianca, GNTGenius, Tisha24, SashaStorm97, SasoriHime05, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, Somnus Verus, Impalpable Ash, flaming-twilight, foreverellen, taz. kelly. _Ya'll made my week with your amazing reviews :) On another note, after I send you this chapter, I'm heading off to bed and getting some sleep. I have two jobs and have to get up at 4 am on the weekdays for one of them, so I have been _so_ tired these past few weeks. My second job is evenings and weekends, but thankfully, I'm not put on the schedule for too many hours so I get _some_ reprieve. And today... I just landed a third one. Thinking about this right now... gosh, I can't stress how much I truly _adore_ sleeping. Oookay, my eyelids are drooping. It's definitely time for bed.

_Question: Which do you like more: the Death Eaters or the Order? (I'm personally choosing the third, unspoken, dark, and sexy option: Tom Riddle)_

Please do_** favorite/alert/review!**  
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_**Twitter: ******__mnadzz_  



	11. Wrapped Around Your Finger

**Chapter 11 – Wrapped Around Your Finger**

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Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Malfoy Manor – 08/29/1992**_

He was perfect – brilliant, charming, witty, intelligent, charismatic, and self-confident.

He was the perfect man.

And that thought frightened her.

Hermione regretted her decision to take Ginny's place whole-heartedly now that she realized just how _fascinated_ she was by Tom Riddle.

Hermione had always wondered, after the many things Harry had told her about the young Dark Lord, how _so_ many people _hadn't_ seen the darkness in him – the sociopathic side he had hidden during his years at Hogwarts. Now… well… now she understood. She _definitely_ understood. Despite the fact that she knew who he was, what he did, what he had accomplished by preserving his sixteen year old self in the pages of the diary in her possession, that didn't stop the terrible feelings he evoked in her. He made her feel like she was perfect, like she was so much better than everyone else – like he cared only for her and her well being, and it was only after she stopped writing in the diary, only after she was able to distance herself from his charisma, was she able to realize just how truly _terrible_ he was and just how influenced she was by the damn thing. He had her, Hermione Granger, believing the lie. All that she liked about him was false – she found herself intrigued by the veneer the young Dark Lord kept throwing her every day she wrote to him, yet, she still couldn't find it in herself to let go of that same intrigue. How could someone who had so much going for him – the handsome looks, the clever intellect, the ambition, the drive, the determination – veer off onto such a horrible path? His horrific childhood, of course, explained most of it, but still… To Hermione, the decisions Tom Riddle made had not amplified his intellect at all. Rather, it dulled it and ruined it. In Hermione's mind, he could have been so much more than a Dark Lord out for vengeance. He could have contributed so much to the Wizarding world with his knowledge!

She began talking to him the night she made her decision. Deciding to emulate Ginny, she complained to the diary – not, of course, about how it was her first year at Hogwarts and how she was attracted to the famous Harry Potter – but about how much she really despised letting two of her best friends copy off her homework. It was a simple, yet true, thing. She really hated letting Harry and Ron copy off of her back then. She had felt, at times, like they were just using her for her cleverness, rather than actually wanting to maintain some sort of friendship with her. Being the girl without any sort of experience when it came to friendship, she had automatically assumed that allowing other kids to copy off her homework equaled closeness.

_At least they grew some brains later on, _Hermione thought wryly, reminiscing about the years that followed.

Tom had flattered her in the beginning. For some reason – she believed this was due solely to the fact that it was a horcrux she was writing in and allowing to influence her – she felt as though she could hear him through the words. It was like they were having a conversation on the phone, except she couldn't hear him out loud. It was like his voice resonated in her mind, somewhat muffled, as she read his elegant script…

Suffice to say that scared her. Despite the fact that he complimented her superior intelligence and, dare she say it, seemed even a bit _surprised_ at how much she knew, Hermione still refused to talk to him for a few days after that first time. She wanted to clear her head. For some reason, she thought their interactions would be colder and more fitting for a Dark Lord. Instead, they left her with an odd mixture of warmth and anger. Warmth at the fact that the Dark Lord himself was passing her compliments – regardless of whether they were true or not – and anger at the fact that she actually felt some emotion other than complete and utter disgust at them.

It wasn't until earlier today, when she realized he was subtly fishing for information about Hogwarts, that she realized something quite important.

She had the upper hand.

Tom Riddle was trying to use her to open the Chamber of Secrets, yet, he had no idea that was what she _wanted_ him to do. She _wanted_ to lull him into a false sense of security – she _wanted_ him to open it so she could, whether directly or indirectly, _destroy_ him. When she thought about it like that, Hermione realized the great manipulator himself was being manipulated by the manipulatee. It reminded Hermione a lot of the idea that 'your servant is your master'. Although she'd never _truly_ understood it before, _now_ she felt like she was an expert.

And that was the reasoning that snapped her out of any semblance of pride or emotion she felt after talking with him that night.

With that revelation, she remembered herself quite clearly and she remembered him – he was just smoke and mirrors. Under the perfectly crafted visage was a sociopath – a monster, a master manipulator.

And she had him wrapped around her finger.

* * *

_**Hogwarts – 09/05/1992**_

"Oh wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!" squeaked Colin Creevey in a very annoying fashion as he practically ran to keep up with Draco, Harry, and Ron.

The brunet groaned quietly to himself. The Creevey kid was a _menace_–

"It'll be really boring–" started Harry quickly, just as anxious to get away from the clingy first year as Draco.

Creevey paid no attention.

"You were the youngest house player in a hundred years, weren't you? Weren't you, Harry? Weren't–"

"Yes," interrupted Draco flatly, "Yes he was."

"You must be _brilliant_, then!" Colin practically squealed.

Draco swallowed thickly to stop himself from saying something cruel as Harry and the Weasel flinched.

"Tell me, is it hard? Is it easy? I've never flown. Is your broom the best–"

Harry shot both Ron and Draco desperate looks.

_Too bad Potter is too nice to tell the Creevey kid to shut the fuck up, _thought Draco waspishly.

"–there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?" Colin had continued speaking, his voice taking an almost breathless tone with his enthusiasm.

It was practically nauseating.

"Yes, Colin," sighed Harry heavily as they continued to walk over to the Quidditch Pitch.

"And what are the other balls for?" the kid almost tripped over a few steps, he was so in awe of what Draco now called 'The Potter'.

The former-Slytherin tried hard not to snigger.

"Well, the Quaffle – that's the biggish red one – is the one that scores goals. Three Chasers on each team throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through the goal posts at the end of the pitch – they're three long poles with hoops on the end."

"And the golden–"

"That's the Snitch. It's very small and very difficult to catch. But that's the Seeker's job. A game of Quidditch won't end until it's been caught. Whichever team's Seeker catches the Snitch first earns one hundred and fifty points."

"And you're the Gryffindor Seeker, aren't you, Harry?" exclaimed the boy, enraptured.

Draco tried not to make a face.

"Yes," responded Harry unwillingly.

Unfortunately, however, Harry's abrupt answer didn't deter Colin. The annoyance continued to ask questions until they finally reached the pitch. He left Harry's side, chirping a cheerful "I'll go get a good seat!", before following Draco and Weasel as they searched for a nice spot. Thankfully, Creevey didn't ask any more questions. Draco assumed it was due to the glare he sent the kid earlier, when he opened his mouth, that kept him from saying anything. Thank Merlin.

After almost a half an hour of waiting – wherein Weasel complained at least four times about his rumbling stomach – the team finally came out from the locker rooms.

"OI!" Draco yelled down to Potter, frowning, "What's taking so long?"

"Wood was teaching us some tactics!" the raven-haired boy responded, looking slightly annoyed, before kicking off into the air.

Immediately, clicking noises were heard as Colin snapped away almost deliriously.

Draco looked at him, his lip curling with distaste, before edging away.

"_Mental_, isn't he?" whispered Ron, his blue eyes flickering over to the Creevey kid.

"HARRY!" he exclaimed shrilly, moving away from his camera for a moment to wave madly at the boy, "HARRY! LOOK HERE! _OVER HERE_!"

"Sounds about right," muttered Draco, eyeing the kid once again before shaking his head and turning back to the pitch.

As he surveyed Potter, Wood, and the Weasley twins hovering around in the sky, jealousy surged through his veins. Merlin, what he wouldn't give to be up there with them.

_Perhaps I'll try out for another position next year…_

Despite his dismal results when playing against Harry as a Seeker in his previous life, Quidditch had always been a wonderful form of escapism for Draco. It was easy for him to clear his mind and relax while flying through the skies. It held an inconceivable sort of freedom and, especially during the darker times in his life, he had craved it.

Seeing green, both literally and figuratively, he jumped out of his seat at the same time as Weasel King. The Slytherin team had just made their way onto the pitch. Cold shock hit him when he caught sight of a familiar, platinum blonde towards the back of the crowd.

Unable to do much more than walk quickly down the steps and out onto the field – Ron right at his heels – he stopped in front of the quarreling Quidditch captains, his eyes wide as his breathing turned erratic.

There had to be some sort of mistake. _There had to_. There was _no_ possible way–

"_But I booked the field!_" yelled Wood, his face gradually turning red as his anger skyrocketed, "I _BOOKED_ IT!"

Flint just smirked before shoving a piece of parchment into Wood's hands.

"Ah, but see here, Wood – I've got a signed slip of permission from Snape."

Wood's eyes widened and he grabbed the note, reading it out loud in an incredulous tone.

"_I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field due to their need to train their new Seeker_."

Draco's jaw dropped.

_You have got to be kidding me._

A distinct sense of déjà vu enveloped him as Wood asked who Slytherin's new Seeker was, and the crowd parted.

"_You_?" hissed both Draco and Weasel.

Hermione stood at the back, her petite form overshadowed by the much larger players. It registered dimly in the back of Draco's mind that she was the first girl ever to be on the team. There was a grimace on her face as her eyes shot between Ron and Harry before eventually landing on Draco. The brunet was frozen, unable to believe this.

_Hermione got my position. Fucking __**Granger**__ got my spot on the team._

White-hot anger washed through his body, and he clenched his fists.

First his family, then his friends, and now his spot on the team. Would it never end? She was getting _everything_.

"You're Lucius Malfoy's, daughter, aren't you?" asked Fred, dislike apparent on his face.

"I–"

"Funny you should mention Hermione's father," smiled Flint cruelly, cutting her off, "A new Seeker isn't the only thing we got this year. Take a look at the generous gift he's bestowed on the Slytherin team."

Six of the players proudly held out their new, gleaming broomsticks while Hermione just fidgeted, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Draco paid the broomsticks no attention – his furious gaze was directed right at Hermione and he knew she felt it. She looked up from under her lashes for a brief moment before looking away once again almost… guiltily.

_Good, _thought Draco angrily, _Let her feel bad._

"I believe," continued Flint arrogantly, "that these outstrip the old Two Thousand series by a long shot and, well, as for the Cleansweeps…" he trailed off, a vile grin on his face as his eyes flickered over to Fred and George, "it sweeps the board with them, really."

All the Weasleys' expressions darkened as the tension hit the roof. Feeling a ridiculous surge of protectiveness over Gryffindor – on top of that, he had always really _hated_ Flint – Draco didn't hold back.

"Yeah?" he hissed, his eyes grey pools of malice, "Well, it's going to be a huge blow to your ego then, Flint, when the Gryffindor team still kicks your arrogant arse even _without_ brooms like that!"

There was a moment of stunned silence before Marcus turned to glare at Draco, his face filled with barely repressed fury.

"How dare you even speak to me, you pathetic _muggle_?" he snarled, "You don't belong here–"

"You'll pay for that one, Flint!"

"Oh I'll show you who belongs here!" yelled Ron and Draco simultaneously, both intending to teach Flint a lesson as they drew their wands quickly.

"_EAT SLUGS_!" yelled Ron suddenly, his broken wand pointed at Flint's face.

Draco turned around and watched with a bit of amusement and some irritation as Weasel King was blasted backwards and onto the ground.

"Ron!" yelled Potter, running to him, a few others right on his tail.

Taking Flint's momentary distraction – the idiot was laughing like a bloody _hyena_ – as an invitation, Draco smirked.

It was time for a little revenge.

"EAT SLUGS!" he yelled, his wand pointed directly at Flint's face.

Before the Slytherin captain could even register what happened, he was thrown onto the ground and, much like Ron, was throwing up slugs. The Slytherin team burst into laughter once again at their captain's condition.

Smiling wickedly, Draco pocketed his wand before walking over to Weasel.

"Nice one, mate," said Fred and George simultaneously, grins on their faces.

He sent them a small smirk before cringing as Ron belched out a few nasty-looking slugs.

"Take him to Hagrid," said a familiar voice, "It's just going to get worse otherwise!"

Everyone turned to look at the odd one out – although, for Draco, her presence, especially when it came to the Weasel or Potter, was to be expected.

Hermione was crouched next to him, concern on her face.

"And why should we listen to _you_?" asked Wood, dislike for her apparent on his face.

"_Because_," she huffed angrily, "do you see me over there hoping that Flint's doing alright?" She gestured to the opposite side of the field where Flint lay, his teammates standing and laughing around him.

They all just stared.

"No, you don't," she snapped, "Unlike him, or the rest of bloody Slytherin, I'm not a pig-headed, bigoted pure-blood!"

"And you like Hagrid?" asked Harry a bit skeptically.

She rolled her eyes.

"Of course, Harry!" she muttered, "He hasn't done any wrong! He's wonderful."

By now, most everyone was staring at her in amazement.

The silence was broken when Ron threw up two more slugs with a nasty slurping sound, and a few of the Gryffindors stepped back a bit.

"Let's just listen to her, alright?" sighed Draco finally, "Here, Harry, you hold that side and I'll hold this side. We can take him to Hagrid."

The raven-haired man dragged his curious gaze away from Hermione and to Draco. After a beat of silence, Potter nodded curtly and helped the former-blond lift up Ron.

"Move him here, Harry!" screeched a familiar, nausea-inducing voice.

Draco groaned softly under his breath as Colin came into view, his eyes wide with excitement and his camera poised for action.

"Is he ill?" the insane boy asked, curiosity lighting his features as he studied Ron quickly, "Oooh, what happen–"

"Get out of the way, Colin!" yelled Harry angrily, a furious frown on his face as he helped Draco haul the retching red-head across the stadium and to Hagrid's Hut.

Draco couldn't help the small smirk on his face as he watched Creevey's expression turn into that of crestfallen disappointment.

_Finally. Potter's grown some balls._

* * *

_**Slytherin Dorms – 09/21/1992**_

Hermione was staring at the diary. Just… staring. She was, once again, waging a huge internal battle when it came to just what to do with the diary. Her feelings on the subject were extremely mixed, yet, she found, when in the close presence of the horcrux, they tended to… _fade_. Although she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that this was the effect of being around Dark magic – that it was merely influencing and heightening her curiosity when it came to Tom Riddle – she still found herself affected.

Taking a deep breath as a thrill of nervousness shot through her, she opened the book, her fingers touching the smooth parchment.

Swallowing hard, she dipped her quill in the ink bottle next to her and wrote.

_Hello, Tom._

Not a moment later, the ink seeped into the parchment and a new response – in beautiful, elegant handwriting which Hermione found herself extremely jealous of – appeared.

_Hermione. How was practice?_

Somewhat hearing his smooth, soft voice gave her goose bumps.

_It went well, _she finally responded, _Although I really am atrocious when it comes to catching the Snitch, I feel like I am, somewhat, getting better._

A moment passed.

_Quidditch is worthless. Besides, your intellect far outweighs any sort of inadequacy in that silly, little game. Don't fret, I'm sure you'll get better. You're too clever not to._

Almost like a balloon, Hermione could feel her ego inflate to dangerous levels as his glowing – yet devious – compliment took root in her brain.

_You flatter me too much._

_It's not flatter if it's true. What about your friends? Are they still brainlessly copying off your homework?_

_As always, unfortunately._

Anger suddenly swirled through her. How and why had she let Ron and Harry copy off her work? They had brains! They could have done it themselves! Merlin, she couldn't believe she had been _so_ desperate for friends in the beginning that she allowed it to soon become a habit.

_How stupid of me_, she thought, disgusted.

_I would have never allowed my friends to copy my homework._

The voice in her head had suddenly grown a bit arrogant and, if she wasn't mistaken, a bit clearer. Feeling an overwhelming amount of shame, Hermione swallowed thickly. She had let him down.

_I'm sorry, Tom._

There was a pause before an abrupt change in topic.

_Describe your surroundings._

The voice was no longer smooth. It was almost demanding, _impatient_. The warning signs in Hermione's head were so dulled by the effect of the horcrux at this point, that she didn't even notice the almost detached way with which she was writing back. Her thoughts were almost consumed with him – with this conversation. She had to write back, she had to please him, she had to respond.

_What do you mean? _Hermione replied, frowning.

_How is Hogwarts now? What does it look like? Where are you sitting?_

The demanding tone – there was something else there, too, but she couldn't decipher it – seemed to only increase in urgency and volume, and Hermione set straight to work describing the place and becoming lost in the details. No matter who she was speaking to, Hogwarts always had a special place in her heart, and she found she could talk for hours on end about it. Besides, the compelling notion that she had to write back, that she had to please him, that she had to respond, appeared to have only strengthened. As Hermione wrote, her spirit seemed to delve further and further into her subconscious mind as they conversed until the last thing she could hear was a low, rich, melodious laugh…

* * *

_**Entrance Hall – 09/27/1992**_

There was strong undercurrent of tension between them and it was slowly killing her.

Ever since that hug – which she now realized was extremely stupid and impulsive – Draco had barely talked to her. And she hated it.

They had some weird sort of truce and friendship-like relationship going on and because of her, it was gone. This was especially bad considering she relied on him for information about Ron and Harry, and without him, she was left completely in the dark.

Hence the reason she was now crouched in an alcove waiting for him to appear from the Great Hall like an idiot. Hermione had left breakfast early specifically for this reason. It was a bit humorous to her. She'd chided him multiple times when it came to grabbing her and man-handling her like she was some sort of doll, yet she was about to do the same.

Hearing the low rumble of talking and the tapping of feet growing louder, she surmised that breakfast had just ended and he'd be walking by soon.

Hermione watched fervently as people continued to pass by her spot, unawares. After a minute, she caught sight of two people – one with dark, messy hair and another with bright red. With a jolt of recognition, her eyes flitted from Harry and Ron to the crazy-haired brunet next to them.

"_Confundus_," she muttered, her wand pointed straight at Draco's head.

The brunet paused, looking around rapidly as disorientation washed over him. The huge crowd from the Great Hall maneuvered their way around him, and within moments, Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen.

Using this as her chance, Hermione moved out of the alcove for a brief moment to grab onto the back of Draco's cloak and literally _drag_ him in.

By the time she finally righted herself, the charm had worn off and the former-Slytherin was trying to make a sly run for it.

"Oh no you don't," she said sharply, grabbing onto his cloak once more and pulling him back into the alcove.

Draco looked like there was something he wanted desperately to say, but was holding his tongue. Her eyebrows rose slightly, in an almost challenging manner, as she waited for him to speak. After a minute of silence, he finally spoke, obviously revising whatever he wanted to say previously.

"I have class," he clenched his jaw, glaring at a spot above her head.

"So do I… in _two hours_," she frowned.

"Alright then," he snapped, "I have _better_ things to do."

"I can assure you, _this_ is the more important," she replied, growing impatient with his rudeness, "Can we just get this over with?"

"Get _what_ over with, exactly?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" she asked condescendingly, "We hugged last year. There, I said it. But honestly, Draco? Who cares? Friends hug all–"

"I don't want to be friends, Granger," he interrupted.

Taken slightly aback by his words, Hermione felt disappointment surge through her.

_He doesn't want to be friends?_

"Why not?" she finally asked in a small voice.

"There doesn't have to be an explanation for everything, you know," he responded in a tone that suggested she was wasting his time.

Anger washed over her. He didn't want to be friends? Fine. That didn't give him the right to talk to her, however, like she was a piece of filth. He hadn't talked to her like that in _ages_! How dare he!

"You can't just talk to me like that, Draco!" she snapped furiously, "I thought we were friends–"

"No, you thought you could be nice and use me to find out information about Harry and Ron, am I right?" he retorted shrewdly, his angry, grey eyes finally flashing to hers. "Isn't that the true reason you're here right now? Without me, you have no way of even _talking_ to them."

"I am not using you!"

"Cut the shit. Of course you're using me! Otherwise you wouldn't be here right now, trying to get past our awkward h–_you just don't want to handle the truth_," he suddenly revised coldly.

"But… I–"

Hermione was frozen and unable to say anything because, unfortunately, what Malfoy was saying was the truth. She had, somewhere in the back of her mind, been using him this entire time – especially now. Worrying about their quasi-friendship had been second on her list of priorities. The most important thing had been to not lose him because, if she did, that meant she'd lose Harry and Ron by extension as well. Had that not been the main reason she'd been hiding like an idiot in this bloody alcove?

Unsure of what to really say as this point, seeing as the brunet in front of her had practically slapped her with the sad truth behind her actions, she settled with spluttering incomprehensibly, at a loss for words.

After a few moments, his angry expression softened just a bit, and he just shook his head.

"Look, I have other things to do, alright? For your information – since, after all, that _is_ the reason you're here," he interjected sarcastically, "Potter's started to hear voices. It happened maybe nine or ten days ago. And yes," he said unwillingly, "I'll meet you in the fucking Astronomy Tower later this week."

And with that, the brunet turned around and walked out of the alcove, leaving behind a very perplexed, yet somewhat happy, Hermione.

That is… until she realized what Harry hearing voices actually _meant_. Cold fear crept up her spine at the realization that Tom had possessed her.

And she hadn't remembered _any_ of it.

* * *

**A huge hug to: **_LittleMissHugALot, sevinaq, Aria Bellisaro, Guest (I hope you meant you liked the plot twist!), Kim Malfoy, krista12, DestinyOrton, warrior-of-water, SlytherinGurrl, Twizard2013, Blood-Gaara-Blood, kat louise, foreverellen, Somnus Verus, anidot90, maranjade, SashaStorm97, Hunter's Heir, The Last Poison Apple, Alenor, Like A Clockwork Orange, mh21, flaming-twilight, Hermione Voldemort Riddle, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, Eventual Evanescence._ Ya'll are lovely. The responses to the plot twist made me grin like an idiot. Just sayin' :) Sorry for not getting this chapter out to you guys Saturday night like usual! I gave this chapter to my beta a bit late and, funnily enough, she told me she didn't even _have_ anything to correct (although, she did lament the fact that there were not more Tom/Hermione interactions, but I digress). That makes me a bit sad since I could have just uploaded this last night and you guys would have gotten it sooner... but oh well. Better late than never, I suppose. Will you all forgive me...? ;) Besides, technically, it's 10:43 pm where I am... so the weekend isn't over yet. Right... _RIGHT_?! Just nod and play along. Alright, awesome.

_Question: Who loves the song "Wrapped Around Your Finger" by The Police? I am in love with it.  
_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

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_**Twitter: ******__mnadzz_


	12. Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Chapter 12 – Devil and the Deep Blue Sea**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Slytherin Common Room – 10/31/1992**_

After that first incident, eating properly and getting adequate sleep proved impossible.

Hermione had been wracked with worry when it came to her interactions with Tom. Despite the fact that all was going to plan – she was _supposed_ to be possessed, after all – the fact that it had actually occurred, that she had been the one to open the Chamber of Secrets for the first time in decades, was still terrifying.

Even more terrifying was that she _willingly_ allowed it to occur once again, earlier in the day.

And now, because of it, she was curled up on a couch in the Slytherin Common Room, too nervous to attend dinner and see the damage she'd willingly inflicted upon Mrs. Norris and the haunting message she'd written on the wall. The guilt and worry was killing her. If she hadn't already gotten an ulcer from her sudden loss in appetite the past few weeks, it would be from the anxious demeanor she'd been wearing for quite awhile now.

Even Draco had noticed. Although he hadn't said much the past few times they'd met, he had given her enough sly, strange looks to lead her to believe he noticed the change in her but refused to comment on it. Things had been a bit… awkward, to say the least, between them earlier, and thankfully, it had been easing a bit this past week. They seemed to have fallen back into the easy-going relationship they had been sporting before the end of last year, and because they were slowly making progress, Hermione refused to tell him about the horcrux. He'd find out later on, of course. It was only a matter of time before he started asking questions – she predicted it would be at the end of the year that he'd come marching up to her, arrogantly demanding answers. However, telling him what exactly she was planning at this point would strain their already tenuous relationship, and she couldn't have that, especially when taking into consideration the fact that everything in relation to Tom Riddle and his diary was progressing quite smoothly (or quite terribly – it really depended upon which way you saw it).

Although Hermione was prone to being a bit of a pessimist at times – she blamed her pragmatism for that one – she was forcing herself to look on the bright side of things. Her plan was working. As long as _she_ was the one dealt the brunt of the issues when it came to Tom, she would gladly take it. _Especially_ if it meant Ginny would be safe this year.

"–standing there. I bet you _anything_ that they were the ones behind it!"

Hermione tried not to groan out loud. The disgusted expression on her face, however, she failed to hide. How could you, after all, when it concerned Pansy Parkinson?

The pug herself finally entered the common room, Tracey Davis and Daphne right behind her. Hermione frowned as Daph came to sit next to her.

"I thought you weren't friends with–"

"_Please_ tell me you ate something," groaned Blaise upon entering the common room and catching sight of her.

She rolled her eyes.

"I told you, _I'm not hungry_."

"What were you saying, Hermione?" asked Daphne, giving Blaise a pointed look.

"I thought you weren't friends with Pansy," she muttered, her brown eyes flickering over to Parkinson, who was sitting on the other side of the common room.

Daphne shrugged noncommittally.

"Does it matter? Besides, she can be alright sometimes. It's more of our grandparents that have a feud – not so much–"

"That doesn't matter!" cut in Blaise, "Guess what you missed, Hermione!"

Something twisted in her gut at the look on her friend's face.

"What?" she asked slowly, already knowing the answer.

"Mrs. Norris was _petrified_! There was blood on the walls too, some creepy message about the Chamber of Secrets being open and all this 'enemies of the heir, beware' nonsense. Can you believe it?! It had to be Potter, Weasel, and the mud-blood! Those idiots were standing right there when everyone found them. Filch almost bloody _killed_ Potty–"

"_As if_ it's Potter," interjected Daphne with a snort, "I doubt he has enough brains to find a secret chamber that _our_ founder created!"

"Whatever, Daphne. You're mental – ten galleons says it's Potter."

"I don't play stupid games, go find–"

"Ten galleons says it's the mud-blood," sniggered Crabbe.

Blaise smirked. He obviously knew he'd be winning _that_ bet.

"You're on."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Bloody hell. Was Crabbe seriously _that_ daft? Deciding to keep her mouth shut, the blonde just sat back on the couch and observed her fellow house-mates as they made predictions.

"I bet you that Creevey kid will get petrified. He's too bloody annoying–"

Hyena-like laughter sounded as Marcus Flint entered the conversation. Hermione cringed. Merlin, she _hated_ Flint. Not only was he creepy, but he was prejudiced and stupid. This was particularly interesting since most Slytherins were actually quite clever – save Crabbe and Goyle. She secretly believed they were placed in Slytherin because the Sorting Hat could find no other place to put them.

"I agree, Zabini," he smiled evilly, "That stupid mud-blood–"

Feeling something snap inside her, Hermione got up. Everyone looked at her in confusion.

"I'm leaving," the blonde announced a bit shrilly, "I have other places I need to be."

"Oh, look! Little miss snob thinks she's better than _everyone el–_"

"Would you just _shut up_, Pansy?" ground out Blaise, his happy mood taking a nose-dive as he turned to look at her.

Silence fell amongst the Slytherins as Pansy visibly deflated.

"I'll catch you later, Hermione," the dark-skinned Slytherin turned to look at the blonde after a beat of silence, before giving her a quick nod.

The anger from Pansy's comment was quickly replaced by a warm feeling that spread throughout her body. Blaise had stood up for her.

"See you," she responded, a soft smile on her face as she quickly left the common room.

* * *

_**Professor Binns' Classroom – 11/04/1992**_

Something very fishy was going on – very fishy indeed. And Draco would be damned if he didn't figure out what the fuck it was. Hence the reason he now, foolishly, had his hand in the air like a bloody idiot in Professor Binn's classroom, of all places.

The ghost stuttered to a halt as he caught sight of Draco's hand, his boring, monotonous monologue ending sharply. There was a beat of silence as the ghost tripped over his words – he'd obviously never had a student raise their hand in his classroom before – before composing himself.

"Yes… Er–Mister…?"

"M–Granger, sir," the brunet corrected himself quickly as everyone in the classroom turned to face him.

"Ah, yes, Granger."

"What can you tell us about the Chamber of Secrets, professor?" Draco asked, deciding to get straight to the point.

He vaguely remembered this conversation from their second year, and seeing as Hermione hadn't raised her bloody hand, the brunet decided he'd ask himself. Although he hadn't much cared who opened the chamber during his second year, his interest was piqued in this alternate universe. He had to help Potter save the day, after all. Might as well actually _try_ to figure out who the hell did it. The professors had kept it all very hush-hush and therefore, no one knew who had done the deed – save the Golden Trio of Stupidity, of course.

"I deal with facts, Mr. Granger, not myths–"

"All myths have basis in fact, though, Professor," he parried smoothly, "Wouldn't you agree?"

The professor spluttered once again, obviously not expecting his somewhat arrogant retort. The blonde held back a smirk.

"I suppose so, Mr. Granger," he finally replied slowly, amazement clear on his face, "However, the tale you're asking me to repeat is ludicrous and most-likely false–"

Binns' eyes grew wider and wider as interest showed on the faces of every student. Many of them had perked up – some even waking from a nap – to hear the tale of the Chamber of Secrets. Draco pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing at the look on the ghost's face.

"Very well," he replied heavily, "You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago…"

* * *

Hermione had gone rigid. This wasn't good – this _really_ wasn't good. Draco was curious and it wasn't too hard to see why. No one – save she, Harry, Ron, the professors, and a handful of others – had really known who had unleashed the monster within the chamber and now, now that Draco was part of the Golden Trio, he wanted to know who had committed the crime. His obvious interest in the story Professor Binns was iterating, coupled with the frown on his face, led Hermione to believe he was trying to commit the story to memory so he could remember details later on. She would know – she _always_ had that very look on her face every time she studied.

So focused was she, Hermione almost jumped out of her skin when his eyes flickered to hers. It took only a moment for her to process that he was looking at her before her eyes flickered downward and to the ground. Embarrassed, she focused on the story.

"–sort of monster which _only_ the heir of Slytherin can control."

Fear spiked in Hermione's fellow students – it was practically tangible – before Professor Binns quickly jumped in and tried to placate the classroom.

"I tell you," he said quickly, shuffling papers on his desk a bit nervously, "the thing does not exist. It is merely–"

"But sir," interjected Seamus, "if the Chamber of Secrets can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, right?"

"If a long succession of Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistresses haven't found a thing–" began Binns, seemingly more aggravated.

"But professor," called out Parvati, "you'd probably have to use dark magic to open–"

"I repeat," iterated Binns, outwardly furious at this point, "If the likes of Dumbledore cannot–"

"But maybe you have to be related to Salazar to–"

"ENOUGH!"

The class grew very silent at Binns' exclamation. Hermione looked down at her desk and forced herself not to glance over at Draco – the temptation was _very_ high – as the professor stared at them all in anger.

"It is a _myth_! It does _not_ exist! There is not a _shred_ of evidence that suggests that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I now regret telling all of you such a foolish and inconsequential story! We will return, if you please, to _history_ – solid, believable, and verifiable _fact_!"

And with that, the excitement in the classroom dimmed until, once more, disinterest and drowsiness washed over every student as Binns continued with his boring monologue. The only exception was Hermione, who was too busy trying to find ways to keep Draco in the dark when it came to the true identity of the opener of the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

_**Slytherin Dorms – 11/07/1992**_

"Hermione? _Hermione_!"

Daphne's voice echoed loudly in the bathroom and the girl in question winced before another roll of nausea washed over her and she retched again.

Two small, cool hands held back her long, blonde hair and Hermione felt so much gratitude towards her fellow Slytherin at that moment.

"It's because of your father, isn't it?"

Unable to speak, she vomited once again before taking deep breaths and trying to quell the waves of nausea. Her hands were shaking when she finally fell back onto the cool floor – which, thankfully, gave her some relief from her flushed body – before finally nodding.

"Not just him… Daph… I can't–"

"I know," she whispered, "I know. You have no hope of winning and you're terrified. But honestly, Hermione, you're a rather fine flyer. I've seen you at practice. You won't fall off your broom, I promise."

"I'm hopeless at catching, though. Not _once_ have I been able to catch the snitch during practice, but I admit, I'm not too afraid of that anymore," she responded, her voice low and hoarse from her retching as she turned her head to look into Daphne's dark eyes. "I'm afraid of my father's reaction. You know how he is."

"Yes, but he knows you are dreadful at the sport," she murmured.

The dark-haired brunet looked at Hermione for a moment before slowly sliding her hand into hers comfortingly. The blonde's eyes widened – not once had Daphne ever been affectionate, not even with her own family. The gesture was very touching.

"Don't work yourself up this much, it's not healthy. Just concentrate on flying or, in this case, catching."

"But–"

"Oh, and here."

The moment was gone as soon as it occurred. The brunet pulled her hand away from Hermione's and brought out a small flask from the inside of her robes.

The blonde stared at the flask inquisitively before turning her curious gaze to Daphne in a silent question.

"Hangover potion. I nicked some from the sixth years. I know it'll stop the nausea and queasiness. I…" the brunet trailed off as she placed the flask on the floor and moved towards the door, "I'll leave you to it, then."

She shot Hermione a small, reassuring smile before vanishing.

* * *

_**Quidditch Pitch**_

"On my whistle," called out Madame Hooch, "Three… two… one…"

The tension in Hermione's shoulders and the apprehension flowing through her veins skyrocketed as the Quaffle was thrown into the air and the game began. Flying high up in the air, much like Harry, she kept her eyes open not only for the snitch, but for the rogue Bludger.

It wasn't too long until one zoomed past Harry's head and Fred and George got right to work trying to aim it elsewhere. Hermione felt slightly affronted when they tried to hit the Bludger at her, regardless of the fact that it zoomed around and headed for Harry once again. Unable to concentrate with him in danger, she kept her gaze fixed firmly on him, regardless of the fact that she could feel Lucius's eyes burning a hole through her back.

She tried to ignore the shaking of her hands and body.

It wasn't too long until a time-out was called for the Gryffindor team to, undoubtedly, discuss the Bludger. Thankfully, most of her fellow teammates were too busy jeering at them – particularly Harry – to ask her about her horrid Snitch skills. They were trying to get more than enough points to ensure that if Harry _did_ get the Snitch – which was a given, really – they would still win.

The match resumed and Hermione kept her eye on Harry as he tried to once again evade the Bludger.

It only took a second. Catching gold in the corner of her vision, she turned and all time seemed to come to a screeching halt. Before knowing what she was doing, she made for the Snitch, unable to believe her luck. Just as she moved a foot, the blonde heard a sickening crunch and turned, watching in almost slow motion, as Harry doubled over on his broom, his injured and broken arm cradled on his chest. He'd obviously caught sight of the Snitch as well. She paused, ready to make her way towards him, when she heard a nasty voice call out her name.

"MALFOY!" snarled Flint from below her, "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU _DOING_?!"

She chanced a glance at Harry, ensuring he wouldn't fall, before reluctantly making a beeline toward the Snitch, which almost seemed to be _waiting_ for her, suspended in the air.

It took only a moment before she brought the entire pitch to their knees in astonishment as her right hand closed over cool, hard metal.

* * *

_**Astronomy Tower – 11/09/1992**_

"I can't believe I won."

"Neither can I," Draco muttered, obviously peeved.

Hermione exhaled sharply before turning to look at him.

"What does that mean?"

"I thought Potter would win–"

"It's because of that stupid squabble, isn't it? You just can't stand being wrong, can you?"

"Not when it involves bloody Flint, I can't," he hissed angrily, his lip curling, "That man is a disgusting, nasty–"

"And why do you hate him so much?" interrupted Hermione, irritably, "Shouldn't you two be best mates or something?"

"Dear Merlin, no," grimaced Draco, affronted, "Don't ever say something like that again."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," she said heavily, "What's the news with you guys? What… what about the chamber? Any news?" she tried to sound relatively nonchalant about the topic despite the fact that she was burning with curiosity.

The brunet shrugged.

"Not much except the fact that Potter's _obsessed_ with trying to find out who's behind the attacks… I can't say I feel any different, however."

"Really?"

"Who opened it in our real life, Granger?" he asked, turning to look at her.

Curiosity was burning in his grey eyes and she swallowed, looking away.

"I can't tell you that," she responded before taking a moment to think.

Hermione mentally slapped herself.

_Merlin, now he's going to–_

"Really?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, "Care to explain?"

Taking a deep breath, she turned to look at him.

"All in time. I promise, Draco. Just… _trust me_ on this one, alright? You'll find out soon enou–"

"That leads me to believe," he interrupted, frowning, "that you're hiding something from me." Draco turned his entire body to face her, anger apparent on his features. "Tell me. Now."

"You can't just order me around," Hermione snapped, her brown eyes flashing angrily. "Besides, if I tell you, then there's no way Harry will be able to kill the Basilisk."

"I don't like secrets, Hermione," he warned ominously, "Whether you like it or not, I'll find out the truth."

The former-Gryffindor swallowed the apprehension that crawled up her spine at his words.

"I wish you luck then," she replied acerbically, sending him a dirty look, before turning and heading toward the stairs. "I have homework," she said before he could get a word in. "Good night."

* * *

_**Gryffindor Common Room – 12/25/1992**_

"I'm telling you Ron, Hermione has _nothing_ to do with the Chamber–"

"How can you say that, Draco? She's a bloody _Malfoy_!"

The brunet rolled his eyes. Weasel King, even after a year and a half, still had the same grudge against Hermione, and frankly, it was starting to get old.

"You know, she was the one that suggested we take you to Hagrid the day that you tried to hex Flint, Ron," cut in Harry, frowning, "If she hadn't, we would have had to take you to Madame Pomfrey, and you know that means we would've landed detention."

The redhead's mouth opened and closed as he fought to find a suitable retort.

"She's still a _Malfoy_. Her father is still _evil_, and that doesn't change anything–"

"Bloody hell, Ron," snapped Draco, his grey eyes flashing to the stubborn Weasley, "Get over it. Just because Lucius may be bad, doesn't mean she is. She hasn't done one terrible thing to us."

There was a long beat of silence as Weasel just looked between Harry and Draco, resignation apparent on his face.

"_Fine_," he muttered petulantly, "But when more people get petrified because you two refuse to investigate her then don't bloody come crying to me."

* * *

_**Hogwarts – 01/23/1993**_

_Slam!_

The entire world went blurry as Harry's glasses fell off his nose and books, parchment, and quills went flying everywhere.

"Harry! Harry! Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry! … Here are your glasses."

He paused from his searching to look up. Only registering platinum blonde, he slowly took the glasses from who he suspected to be Hermione.

"Er… thanks," he said awkwardly when she finally came into view.

She was smiling at him almost… hopefully. At that moment, the raven-haired man felt genuinely bad. Ron had said so many terrible things about her and he, himself, had thought she was a bigoted pure-blood like the people she associated with, yet, she had proven time and time again, that she was actually nice and quite kind.

_How was she sorted into Slytherin? Surely she's much too nice…_

"Of course, Harry!" she replied quickly, a large smile on her face, "It was completely my fault. I don't know where my head is nowadays."

"You're not the only one," he replied, adjusting his glasses as he grabbed his books and shoved them unceremoniously in the bag.

"I suppose not," she agreed before throwing her books in her bag as well.

He straightened back up and held out his hand to help her.

She shot him another warm smile before grasping his hand and standing alongside him.

"I'll see you around?" she asked hopefully, her brown eyes lighting up.

Feeling a bit awkward once again at all the attention she was giving him, Harry nodded and sent her a small smile.

"Sure. Oh, and one more thing… good job with the Snitch."

She beamed then and Harry felt even more uncomfortable.

"Thanks, Harry! See you!" she chirped happily. The Slytherin paused briefly, indecision in her eyes. It almost looked as though she wanted to say more. Sending him a quick smile, which he registered as more of a grimace than anything else, she spun around and almost ran away.

Though he found himself a bit bemused at her behavior, Harry felt reassured, once again, that the blonde had nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets.

The Gryffindor hadn't realized he'd been standing and staring blankly at the hallway until the chime of the bell sounded.

He was late.

* * *

_**Slytherin Dorms**_

It was gone. It was bloody _gone_.

Hermione fell to the ground and brought her knees to her chest to stop herself from losing it completely. This was complete madness. How could she have bloody lost it?! How could she have _done_ that?!

Berating herself multiple times in her head, she finally got up. Taking deep breaths to stop herself from screaming in anger, she finally calmed down.

_It'll show up. It __**will**__ show up. It has to. I probably just kept it in another spot to stop Pansy or Tracey from getting their grubby, little hands on it._

The two seemed to have a habit of going through her stuff. Although Hermione made sure to place charms on all of her belongings, she was paranoid enough to believe they still weren't entirely safe from Pansy's rabid clutches.

Merlin, she hated her.

Somehow, despite the fact that she was a Malfoy, the violet-eyed girl _still_ had it out for her.

Nodding a few times, Hermione changed into her pajamas and tried to shove the diary from her mind.

It would show up.

It _had_ to.

* * *

_**Astronomy Tower – 02/15/1993**_

Draco watched apprehensively as Hermione paced like a maniac in the Astronomy Tower. The entire room was cackling with energy as she walked furiously back and forth. They'd been meeting almost every other day and he'd noticed that she'd slowly become more and more anxious. Today it seemed she'd lost it completely. She was muttering incomprehensibly and making weird noises under her breath.

It was nothing short of disturbing.

"Hermione?" he murmured, reaching the top of the staircase, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"You did this, didn't you?" she suddenly hissed, turning to him with a wild look in her eyes.

Draco unconsciously took a step back.

_What the hell is wrong with her?_

"Did what?" he asked slowly, "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

"You wanted to know, so you took it!" she snarled before suddenly turning and pacing once again. "I can't _believe_ this–"

Rolling his eyes, Draco moved until he was right next to her. Grabbing her arms to stop her from pacing – quite frankly, it was making his head spin – he halted her steps.

"Let go of me!" she yelled, trying to yank her hands out of his grip, "What have I told you about personal space?!"

"Damn it, Hermione! Stop pacing and tell me what the hell is going on!" he snapped irritably.

_Merlin, she's acting like a bloody idiot!_

"It's gone!" she yelled, something akin to desperation on her face as she grabbed him and practically shook him, "_HOW CAN IT BE GONE_?!" she shrieked.

"_What_ is bloody gone?!" he snarled, shaking her, "Tell me, woman!"

"I gave it almost a month! ALMOST A _MONTH_ TO SHOW UP!" she wailed, "I THOUGHT I KEPT IT IN A SAFE PLACE! I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE REASON–"

"CAN YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU BLOODY LOST?!" he yelled furiously.

"THE JOURNAL!" her eyes widened, almost as if saying the actual thing she lost out loud made it all the more real. "I thought I placed it somewhere safe. I thought it would show up, but it didn't–"

"What's so special about a bloody journal, Granger?" he frowned, trying to piece everything together, "What is so bloody _special_ about it?!"

For a fleeting moment, the thought of reading her journal – a journal with her most _intimate_ thoughts – flew through Draco's mind. It was actually quite enticing. What if he found it before her? What if he kept it with him for a day or so?

_One little look wouldn't be too bad… _

"Someone else has it," she breathed, fear flashing through her eyes, "Someone has to. Draco, that journal is _evil_–"

His curiosity soaring, he held onto her arms even harder. An evil journal? What was she writing in there?

"_What the hell is in the journal, Granger_!?" he bellowed, shaking her.

Gods, she was bloody _mental_. Nevertheless, he still wanted to read the damn thing.

Hermione froze, staring at him nervously.

"V-Voldemort."

* * *

**Lots and lots of love and slices of cake to: **_Eventual Evanescence, Kim Malfoy, SoSonia85, Bianca the crazy Slytherin, flaming-twilight, HazelMalfoy18, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, Somnus Verus, HarryPotterGeneration, LittleMissHugALot, Blue bell, The Last Poison Apple, Calimocho, Mrs. Stockwell, DestinyOrton, Victoria, krista12, Gracie Longbottom, midnight shadow of darkness. _

I know. This chapter is LONG overdue. I cannot apologize enough. Thanksgiving, Black Friday, family stuff, work, sickness, and, sadly enough, the complete and utter perfection that is Tom Hiddleston, have kept me from posting/writing this chapter. Does anyone else understand my obsession? He's now the wallpaper on my computer and my phone, and I bought a personalized pillowcase (online, of course) with his glorious (hehe, Loki reference!) face on it. I REGRET NOOTHHHHIIINNNNNGGGG *screams* Interestingly enough, one of his movies is called "The Deep Blue Sea" and it was really good and also the inspiration for this chapter title. That, and the same song, "Wrapped Around Your Finger" by The Police, that was the chapter title for #11. ANYWAY, I apologize wholeheartedly for this extreme delay and I will try my damnedest to get my Dramione muse back. I blame Tom Hiddleston. Not only did he ruin my life with his beautiful face and perfect personality, but he's taken my muse, too. *cries* I will say this very tentatively: expect an update this weekend...? PLEASE TOM GIVE ME BACK MY MUSE WHY MUST YOU BE SO CRUEL YET WONDERFUL AND HAVE SUCH A SEXY VOICE AND PERFECT–

_Question: Who/what is/are your biggest obsession(s)? (other than HP, of course!)_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

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	13. Policy of Truth

**Chapter 13 – Policy of Truth**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Astronomy Tower – 02/15/1993**_

He wasn't expecting that. Not at all. Hence the reason there was now silence between himself and the girl in front of him.

What he _was_ expecting, however, was something along the lines of an evil journal that would attack anyone who tried to read it without the owner's permission. He was even expecting Hermione to tell him she may have accidentally cursed it.

Not that the fucking _Dark Lord_ was in it.

A few more minutes passed as Draco just stared at the blonde in front of him, unable to really process what she had just said. So many questions were swirling rapidly through his head, the most urgent of them all screaming at him to ask how in the _hell_ that was even possible. Was this how Voldemort came into power once again?

What hadn't Hermione been telling him?

That second question brought along a rush of anger that was all-consuming.

_She's been hiding things from me. This entire time._

Of all the questions that he wanted to ask, that one sentence seemed to become a top priority.

"You didn't want me to find out, did you?" Draco asked, an edge to his voice.

He watched as she swallowed hard.

_That's what I thought._

"Am I just a pawn?" he asked harshly, his fists clenching as she flinched back. "Am I just a bloody _pawn_ for you? To just sit here and do your bidding? This isn't just about you or Potter or the idiotic love of your fucking life, Hermione!" he yelled, his voice rising to dangerous levels. "This is my life, too! You can't just leave out certain important details such as, oh, I don't know, the fact that bloody Voldemort is, by some fucking miracle, still living through a _journal_!"

"Draco–"

"_ESPECIALLY_," he snarled, his grey eyes flashing, "when _I'm_ doing _you_ a favor by cavorting with your unbearable friends!"

"Draco, you're hurting–"

"That's it," he hissed, "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not going to allow myself to be bloody killed to help _Potty_–"

"LET GO OF MY ARMS!" she yelled, yanking herself out of his vice-like grip.

It was a moment before desperation flashed through her eyes and she latched onto him. A noise of disgust left Draco as he tried to get away.

"Malfoy, please, _please_. Don't do this, you have to help them!" she pleaded, her eyes wide.

"Not anymore I don't," he snapped, trying to get out of her grip once again.

"Remember I said I would do _anything_ you say? I swear, I'll do or give you _whatever_ you want," she started desperately. "Just don't stop helping them, _please_."

The brunet paused for a moment. He _did_ remember her saying that…

"You're groveling," Draco sneered.

"I don't care," Hermione snapped, growing fiery instantly, "I'll do anything for Harry and Ron. Even if it means begging to the likes of _you_, a man who can't even stay true to his word."

It was like a slap on his face. The memories of that night on the Astronomy Tower and of the day he got the Dark Mark and his assignment to kill Dumbledore flashed through his mind.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Granger," he snarled coldly. "Do remember, if you piss me off, you won't have anyone to turn to."

Hermione grimaced and withdrew from him, as if the words actually physically wounded her.

"I understand that," she whispered, "If I didn't, I wouldn't be… be–"

"Groveling, begging, putting aside your pride… there are a whole _multitude_ of ways to put it," Draco supplied unhelpfully, an evil smirk on his face.

"Yes. _That_," she bit out, gritting her teeth, "Now could you–"

"Tell me everything," he said imperiously, "or I won't."

Hermione stared at him a few moments, obviously weighing the pros and cons. Draco smirked slightly when he realized the only good thing about this situation for her was the chance to help Harry and Ron.

Too bad that was the one that mattered the most to her.

"Fine," she moaned, "Merlin, _fine_! You'd have to find out, regardless!"

Extremely satisfied, Draco crossed his arms.

"Well, go on. Tell me everything."

The blonde sighed heavily.

"It's a long story…"

* * *

_**Room of Requirement**_

"Horcruxes are little pieces of Voldemort's soul that he placed in different objects of certain significance which help sustain him. This is the reason he was able to come back to life in our fourth year and these objects are what Scarred Idiot, Useless Numskull, and you, Maniac-Braniac, went looking for during your would-be seventh year. They are the–do I seriously have to reiterate every fucking thing you just summed–"

"MALFOY!"

"They are the bloody key to killing Voldemort. There. Happy?"

"Shut up," Hermione snapped, "The only reason I'm doing this is because you need to know the facts. If you don't, you could screw something up drastically."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"What about this journal?" he asked, his grey eyes flashing to hers. "It's a horcrux?"

"Precisely," she answered almost approvingly.

It made him want to throw up.

"Don't patronize me, Granger."

"Moving on," she said heavily, rolling her eyes, "I found the journal in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I was… relieved and kept it with me, but now, someone else has it. I have–oh… _oh_! Of course!"

Hermione leaped from her armchair, beaming.

"I know who has it!"

The brunet rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm.

"_Do_ tell," he drawled in a boring tone.

She glared at him a moment, annoyed, before speaking.

"You're good at stealing and doing bad things, right?" she asked, an eyebrow arched as if challenging him to deny it.

"Why Granger," he deadpanned, "You're–"

"Glad you're not denying it then, Draco," she continued, interrupting him.

He held back a smirk. She could tell when he was going to say something rude.

"–observant."

Hermione shot him a warning look – to which he just smirked back lazily – before speaking once again.

"I need you to steal it back from… a close friend."

His smirk faltered as Hermione smiled sweetly.

"Who?" he asked suspiciously.

"Practice your best innocent face, Draco," she replied nonchalantly, "You're stealing the diary back from Harry."

* * *

_**02/16/1993**_

"Here," Draco snapped, shoving the damn journal into Hermione's hands before plopping down on one of the plushy armchairs in the Room of Requirement.

He had practically ran here. All because of her.

"Oh thank _Merlin_," she murmured, her hands caressing the leather on the book as if to ensure it was actually there.

"You're welcome," the brunet said sarcastically, "It was nothing really, risking my life to get you a bloody piece of Voldemort's soul–"

"Oh stop being so overly dramatic," Granger rolled her eyes. "And thank you," she added.

"If Potter had bloody caught me, I would have been dead, Hermione! D-E-A-D. Do you even understand the meaning of the word?!"

Although all was silent after that, Draco could've sworn he heard her mutter "some things never change" under her breath.

He didn't say anything, however. He could tell she was ecstatic that the journal was back, and after realizing the true significance of the horcrux, the Gryffindor could safely say he agreed wholeheartedly.

Sighing, Draco relaxed back into the armchair and allowed his eyes to slowly close. It had been a long day.

* * *

_**02/17/1993**_

"_His eyes are as green as a fresh-picked toad,  
His hair is as dark as a blackboard,  
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,  
the boy who defeated the Dark Lord!"_

"Stop, _please_!" gasped Hermione, a hand on her stomach as she fell back on the couch in the Room of Requirement, laughing so hard her face was red.

"See, Granger? You missed out on _fresh-picked toads_ and the _divine_ Potter."

"Draco…" she panted, trying to stop herself from laughing, "this isn't… funny! This is Ginny!"

"Well, She-Weasel sure has a way with words. Seeing that scene a second time only made it better," the brunet smirked widely as Hermione wiped away tears.

"Gods, I wish I had been there to see it," the blonde remarked wistfully.

"Some friend you are. Ridiculing the Boy-Who-Lived on such a _momentous_ holiday as Valentine's Day," sniggered Draco, "Did you see the bloody dwarves Lockhart had? Merlin, the guy's an idiot!"

"He's so full of himself!" exclaimed Hermione, agreeing, "It still astounds me how self-absorbed he is." She paused before looking at him, a ghost of a smile on her face. "He's worse than you, Draco, and that's saying something," she added slyly.

"I am _not_ that self-absorbed," snapped the brunet, immediately bristling as she sniggered behind her hand.

"Besides," he added in a tone of disgust, "Valentine's Day is for fools, and I am most certainly _not_ a fool. Don't compare me to that imbecile."

* * *

_**Great Hall  
**_

Potter suspected Hagrid? _Again_?

"I don't think it's Hagrid, Harry–" started Draco, sighing.

The former-Slytherin thought back to his conversation with Hermione – the conversation about the horcruxes – before realizing, with a jolt, that she had _never_ told him who opened the Chamber. All she relayed to him was that she found the diary in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and had kept it safe ever since.

_No matter_, thought Draco, _I still know it's not the oaf._

Despite the fact that the brunet hated Hagrid, he knew that the half-giant wasn't behind the attacks. It must have been a student – how else had Hermione found the diary? She said it was in the unused girl's bathroom. Hagrid would have _never_ gone in there.

"Riddle showed me his memories, Draco," whispered Harry miserably, "I think it _is_ Hagrid. We all know he loves big creatures."

"No matter how bloody dangerous they are," added Ron dully.

"It was just an accident," reasoned Potter sadly, "Hagrid could have stumbled upon the creature and felt bad for it and accidentally unleashed it without knowing the consequences."

"Maybe it was another monster and _not_ the Acromantula–"

"How many beasts d'you think Hogwarts holds, Granger?" asked Ron incredulously.

Draco clenched his jaw to prevent himself from saying something Hermione would make him regret.

There was a moment of silence.

"D'you think we should just ask Hagrid about this?" ventured Harry quietly, his green eyes – _Like a fresh-picked toad, _thought Draco, holding down a snigger – flickering between the two.

"That'd be a cheerful visit!" said Ron, a sardonic edge to his voice, "'Hello, Hagrid. Been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?'"

"I take that as a no," muttered Draco.

* * *

_**Slytherin Common Room – 05/08/1993**_

Months had passed without incident.

Until today.

Hermione couldn't shake the thought that all that had occurred was due to her, regardless of the fact that she was doing what was right.

The blonde was huddled with the rest of the Slytherins in their Common Room, listening as Snape made the announcements. Most everything was cancelled because Penelope Clearwater was found petrified. Although the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff game was one of the cancelled events, no one made a big fuss. All the students were too preoccupied with the reality that Hogwarts could be closing down in the near future unless the culprit was caught. A tense and quiet silence had taken over the castle after the announcement that Penelope had been petrified – it was almost as though everyone was holding their breath.

"–rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave their dormitories after that time," Snape drawled, "You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches will be postponed. There will be no more evening activities. Like I'm sure most of you are aware," said Snape, his voice softening, "the school will most likely be closed unless the culprit is caught. I, Dumbledore, and all of your professors ask that anyone with _any_ sort of knowledge about the Chamber come forward. That is all."

And with that, Snape gave them all a nod before walking swiftly out of the Common Room, his black robes billowing behind him.

"As if _we_ need to be frightened," scoffed Blaise after the Common Room door slammed shut. He rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious yet? The person behind the attacks is only targeting mud-bloods and those in other houses. We could all waltz around at midnight unaccompanied and be fine."

There were murmurs of agreement from the Common Room at Blaise's comment.

"Arrogance isn't a great quality to have, Blaise," whispered Hermione a bit angrily after the crowd dissipated. She hated it when he became the pompous prat she remembered from her previous life. "Let's not push it. You wouldn't want to ruin it and have the monster come after you, would you?"

The dark-skinned Slytherin turned to her and rolled his eyes as Daphne made her way over.

"It could try," he responded haughtily, "but I highly doubt the monster would even get _close_."

"You think yourself above all, Blaise," sighed Daphne, rolling her large, dark eyes. "Perhaps I should find the monster and drag it over to you just to teach you a lesson."

"Too bad your face would scare it so much it would petrify itself."

She shrugged before smirking knowingly.

"That's not what you said at my eleventh birthday party."

Hermione laughed out loud at Blaise's thunderstruck expression.

* * *

_**Hagrid's Hut **_

"I can't believe we're actually bloody doing this!"

"Shut up."

"Ron, you're stepping–"

_Knock knock knock! _

"Draco, what did you do that fo–"

Weasel King cut himself off abruptly when the door swung open and there stood Idiot-Oaf with a crossbow. Draco didn't blame the redhead. The sight was unnerving.

"Show yerself!"

Once Harry took off the cloak, Hagrid relaxed visibly.

"Oh, what're you three doin' here?"

"What's that for?" asked Harry curiously, pointing to the crossbow.

"Nothin', nothin'. I've bin expectin'–doesn' matter–sit down–makin' tea–"

The half-giant stumbled around not only his words, but what Draco liked to call his '_dirty hovel'_, seemingly in a daze. It was as if he had no idea what he was doing. Draco sighed as they all sat down in chairs. Fang bounded up to him and, to his utter disgust, barked and slobbered, like a foaming, rabid animal, all over his robes.

_It's going to be a bloody long night, _Draco thought, trying not to look as revolted as he felt.

* * *

_**An hour later…**_

The brunet watched the scene dumbly, unable to believe everything that had just transpired. In the span of perhaps an hour, Dumbledore, his father, and Fudge all encroached on the hovel – this was very bad considering how small it was – the latter of the two sentencing the Oaf to Azkaban before promptly sacking Dumbledore. The shock of it all was unrelenting.

Fudge was now waiting for Hagrid to leave the house. The Minister for Magic was looking a bit nervous as he appraised the half-giant – it seemed as though he expected the Oaf to lash out violently because of the sentence.

Dumbledore and his father were waiting outside.

_His father…_

Seeing Lucius act like this – act so cold – brought back memories of his childhood, of how awed and proud he was of his father's impeccable ability to close off his emotions and feed his cruelty.

Now, however, due to all of the horrors Draco had witnessed and the War, seeing his father act so arrogant and cold was a bit shocking. It served as a sharp reminder – one that he seemed to have needed. The War, in this universe, was only _beginning_.

"If anyone wanted ter find out some… _stuff_, all they'd have ter do would be ter follow the _spiders_! That'd lead 'em right! That's all I'm sayin'."

The amazement and incredulity on Fudge's face was priceless. Draco found himself unable to repress a smirk.

"All right, I'm comin'," relented Hagrid, pulling on his coat and readying himself.

Just as he was about to follow Fudge out the door, he stopped once again and called out loudly, his voice a bit gruff and filled with forced nonchalance.

"An' someone'll need ter feed Fang while I'm away."

The former-Slytherin could only imagine the face Fudge made at the Oaf's comment. He repressed a snicker as the door slammed shut, and Ron threw off the cloak, his eyes wide and his breathing a bit ragged.

"Dumbledore's _gone_. You know what that means, don't you, Harry?" he asked, a nervous edge to his voice.

All of Draco's amusement vanished.

"It means we're in trouble now," Potter said hoarsely, "Without him…" the raven-haired man trailed off, apparently unable to voice his thought.

"… Without him," finished Draco solemnly, "the school might as well close down."

_Especially since Hermione refuses to give me any real answers._

The thought that she might be keeping something from him – that, perhaps, she had never told him the complete truth like he had demanded that night – made something uncomfortable twist in the pit of his stomach. He had come to terms with his irrationality that night. He shouldn't have acted the way he did – he should have been calmer, more in-control. Regardless of Hermione's secretiveness, the brunet knew he should have found some other way to get her to beg for his forgiveness and tell him the truth. One that didn't involve both of them losing control.

But, never mind that. It was in the past.

What he _could_ change, however, was the way he approached this puzzle of hers. It would have been so easy for Hermione to just give him the name. One, simple name. He was merely curious, after all. All Draco wanted was to know who had unwittingly allowed Voldemort to consume their person and thoughts and possess them. Now that he had a clear head and was finally thinking back to that night – he refused to think about it the past few months – he came to a conclusion. One, either she was keeping it from him because she thought it embarrassing and a cause for ridicule, or two, the answer was bad. Very bad.

That sounded quite ominous, and because it was Hermione, he had a feeling it was the second option – that the answer was so bad that she felt the need to hide it from him to 'spare him from the horror', or something else equally idiotic.

_In that case, _Draco thought, his lips curling a bit as he robotically followed Harry and Ron to the castle under the invisibility cloak,_ I'll just have to slyly get the information from her._

It seemed it was time to, once more, embrace his Slytherin heritage.

* * *

**Hugs and kisses to: **_krista12, rairio, foreverellen, SashaStorm97, Calimocho, dreaming of rocketships, Guest, anidot90, JuliaLestrange, SasoriHime05, SlytherinGurrl, Bianca the crazy slytherin, Eventual Evanescence, LittleMissHugALot, Kim Malfoy, Like A Clockwork Orange, flaming-twilight, Halfway to Nowhere142, Harry Potter Generation. _You are all so lovely. *sniffles* HEY, LOOK AT ME, UPDATING IN A WEEK LIKE NORMAL. I feel extremely accomplished. A big round of thanks not only to all of you lovely reviewers, but to Tom Hiddleston as well. He gave me back my muse this week. Love him ;) PS - I also have a car decal with his face on it. Once again... I REGRET NOOOTHHHIIIIINGG! *screams* Anyway, hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Poor Draco. He's caught between a rock (Voldemort) and a hard place (Hermione). In the words of Spongebob, he's a "Sneaky McSneaker Pants" now.

_Question: Do you think Draco will figure out who's behind the attacks?_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

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	14. Immolation

**Chapter 14 – Immolation**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Room of Requirement – 05/23/1993**_

He was so close he could practically _feel_ it.

Draco had been meeting with Hermione almost every night the past few days despite the fact that there was nothing to talk about. Most of the time they worked on their easy homework assignments, chatted occasionally about other school developments, or engaged in long bouts of silence. Interestingly enough, the silence was never uncomfortable. It was the opposite, in fact. Draco used these times during the night to dwell on the Chamber of Secrets and who was behind the attacks.

The answer was on the tip of his tongue… he could _taste_ it. He just needed a push – something to make all the events click in his mind.

Since the school year was quickly drawing to a close, Draco felt time slip through his fingers. He was on a deadline now. Figuring this mystery out was now his priority. It was _imperative_. There was something about this whole situation that was off. Despite everything Hermione said, he realized now that something had changed this year in regards to the Chamber… the person who opened it.

There was never cause before to hide it. If he had asked her directly about who opened the Chamber, Draco was positive Hermione would have told him before the school year started.

Now… now everything had changed. This year was going to be much different because of the life switch.

Draco, however, had no idea just how much.

His grey eyes flickered over to the girl curled up on the armchair on his right.

He hadn't seen her look as peaceful as she did in that moment in awhile.

Draco had been sneaky; he'd been cunning every time he talked to her.

Too bad she wasn't an idiot and knew _exactly_ what he was trying to do after the first few times. Because of her cleverness, she soon found ways to avoid the subject like the fucking _plague_. Whenever he so much as uttered anything even _remotely_ close to the Chamber, she'd promptly change the subject.

Her deliberate avoidance only fueled the ideas in Draco's head about the Chamber and, to his amusement, he found she was indirectly helping him figure it out. The more he mulled over the different possibilities, the closer he felt he was to discovering the person behind the attacks.

Draco continued to watch her sleep, deep in thought.

A sudden idea flickered in the back of his mind and his eyes widened.

_**Hermione**__ opening the Chamber? I must be going mental._

How preposterous. She was a mud-blood and would _never_ deliberately hurt other people. He doubted it was even in her bloody genetic make-up.

_Merlin, I need to get some sleep._

Shaking the thought out of his head, Draco made a snap decision to just sleep in the Room of Requirement. He was too tired to walk back to Gryffindor Tower and much too comfortable to get up and try to wake up the sleeping former-Gryffindor to his right.

Grabbing one of the throws and kicking off his shoes, Draco collapsed on the couch, stretching his legs and back before promptly falling asleep.

His dreams were different that night. Haunted by Acromantulas, Basilisks, and Hermione's screams, Draco found himself thoroughly disturbed and worn out the next morning.

* * *

_**05/24/1993**_

"You're _what_?"

"Paying Aragog a visit."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, as if processing the information, before immediately grabbing her cloak.

"I'm coming, too."

Anger washed through his system and Draco couldn't help but laugh right in her face.

She looked taken aback before assuming an affronted expression by crossing her arms over her chest and glaring.

"Excuse me, but why in the _blazes_ do you think they'd even _allow_ you? Forget you, they'd bloody kill _me_ for telling you, the 'evil Malfoy girl', as Weasel so lovingly calls you from time to time, important things."

Draco also wanted to call her out and tell her he wouldn't want her anywhere _near_ him because of her blatant lies about the Chamber. Biting his tongue, he settled with sneering at her.

Hermione watched him, frowning, as her expression morphed into that of confusion.

"What has you so furious today? Besides, there's a reason Disillusionment Charms were created–"

"I'm _always_ furious, Hermione," he snapped. "And I'd rather you _not_ come along. Potter and Weasel managed just fine while you were petrified last time, and I'm positive they'll fare even better with my presence. What's not needed, however, is some pathetic display of heroism from you. Especially considering they hate you and that being invisible, particularly during our _dramatic_ escape with the freak-car, may not work out perfectly well for you. I would rather you stay alive so I don't feel guilty or some other pathetic Gryffindor-like emotion."

"Is that your twisted way of telling me you'd rather I not die and that you care?" she asked, an eyebrow raised inquiringly.

"No," he grunted, throwing on his cloak, "It's my _normal_ way of telling you to sit here and not go off gallivanting like an idiot. Really, Hermione? I thought you had more brains. Perhaps Potter's hero-complex has rubbed off on–"

"You're too sweet, Malfoy," she replied slyly. "It's quite nice to know that you _do_ care."

"Or maybe," Draco shot back, his irritation rising, "I want you to stay alive so I can kill you myself."

The aggravating witch just shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. Please don't leave either of them there. I know it would be _hilarious_ to you to watch Ronald collapse from fear, but I'd advise you _not to do it_."

"Great to know how much you care," he spat, feeling some foreign emotion well up inside him. "'Oh, Malfoy! Keep Harry and the Big Red Idiot alive! I could care less about whether _you_ die!'"

"Gods, Malfoy," she replied irritably, "Why are you so dramatic? I was just telling you–"

"Exactly, Granger," he snapped, his grey eyes flashing. "You're _telling_ me. _I_ would advise _you_ to stop doing that. Besides, if I don't bring one of them back alive, I'm sure _you'd_ pick up right where the Acromantulas would leave off, am I correct?" he asked condescendingly.

"Yes, you are!" she countered, her voice rising, "And I'm glad you haven't forgotten!"

"How bloody can I?" Draco shot back, grabbing his wand and opening the door so he could properly slam it behind him. "You remind me of it _every fucking day_!"

* * *

_**Slytherin Dorms – 05/29/1993**_

It was the big day.

Hermione was staring anxiously at the diary as she clasped and unclasped her hands together. Her stomach was in knots and, as always, she was rethinking her decision.

Sadly, it was too late to go back now.

The blonde recognized that she was stalling the inevitable for some insane reason, yet refused to take the first step – to pick up the diary and write.

Over the past few days, Draco had been getting closer and closer to figuring out that she was behind the attacks and, with each passing day, seemed to be growing angrier and angrier.

Hermione believed he was coming to the conclusion that she had, indeed, been lying to him the entire time.

Unable to stall anymore, the Slytherin decided that this morning was the perfect time to get it over with once and for all. The only problem was… she couldn't tell Draco. At least, not until the proper moment.

That problem, of course, had slowly melted away after about a minute of thinking. She decided to leave him a note answering the question he'd been so feverishly trying to figure out – that it was she who had been petrifying the students this year.

Swallowing hard, her gaze flickered from her curled fingers to the small piece of parchment in front of her. It was early morning. This meant most students were not yet up. Thankfully, this provided her with some time to find the proper words to tell Draco exactly what she'd been doing and why she'd not only done it, but blatantly lied to him about it.

She prayed he'd understand.

_Chances are he won't, _the blonde thought dully as she picked up her quill and promptly threw all caution to the wind.

_Draco,  
It's Hermione. I've been purposefully avoiding the subject  
of the person who opened the Chamber of Secrets this  
year because, well… it was me. I know what you're thinking.  
Stop thinking it.  
I'll be in the Chamber when you get this message and, to be honest,  
if you decide not to help, I'll probably die. So get going and tell  
Harry and Ron everything you've (and when I say 'you', I mean 'I')  
figured out. Harry can open it and good luck with Lockhart.  
_

Scrunching up her nose, Hermione realized that the letter was absolute absurdity and completely mental, especially considering how blasé she sounded about the entire thing, however, now wasn't the time to beat around the bush. After she sent this note and timed it properly, her entire existence would depend on Draco.

On a Malfoy.

A man who hated her for _over seven years_.

Sighing, Hermione sent off the note and turned to stare speculatively at the cursed diary. Sending up a silent prayer to the Gods that Malfoy would be in a forgiving mood this morning, she grabbed her quill and, ignoring the shaking of her hand, engaged Tom Riddle in polite, ignorant conversation for what she hoped to be the last time.

* * *

_**Gryffindor Dorms**_

The more Draco thought about it, the more everything seemed to make so much more sense. Before, when dwelling on the idea of Hermione having anything to do with the Chamber, he always seemed to come up with plausible reasons why she wouldn't – she would never hurt anyone, she was too much of a goody-two-shoes, she wouldn't put herself in that type of danger.

What he _hadn't_ been thinking about, however, were the reasons she would actually attempt it. _If_ she had decided to stupidly put her life on the line this year, there would have to be a pretty damn good reason why. It took all of a few moments for him to realize that the one reason Hermione would ever break the rules, put herself in a dire situation, or, possibly, even _hurt_ another person, would be to protect one – to protect someone she loved dearly.

And with that, Draco realized the culprit in their previous life was a Gryffindor – someone other than Potter and Weasley – who, despite that fact, was near and dear to Granger's heart.

This was all a tad bit speculative of course. It was an interesting notion – the idea that Hermione was trying to protect a friend, a Gryffindor, from falling into the Dark Lord's clutches. It was all extremely heroic and vomit-worthy.

Waking up this morning and getting out of bed, he decided he'd question her directly about it. It wouldn't be too long until something monumental happened, much like during their original second year, and he wanted the truth – the _actual_ truth – before it did.

Intent on finding her after breakfast – Draco smirked a bit at the idea of grabbing her and shoving her into an alcove – he found himself marginally disappointed when he didn't catch sight of her. Frowning, he ate contemplatively and barely engaged in conversation… not that he did normally.

A loud uproar drew him from his thoughts and he automatically looked up and tuned in.

McGonagall was talking about the mandrakes. Apparently, they would be ready tonight.

_Awesome_, he thought dully, rolling his eyes.

None of it really mattered until he found out the truth behind the attacks. What he needed was to speak with Moaning Myrtle.

There was just one thing he had to do first…

"Guys," he hissed, "I found something important regarding the Chamber."

The brunet's grey eyes flickered, for a moment, to the empty spot next to Blaise at the Slytherin table, before finding Harry's brilliant, green gaze.

"What is it?" he asked curiously.

"'Eah!" chimed in Weasel, his mouth full of eggs.

Shooting the redhead a disgusted expression, Draco quickly drew the crinkled parchment out of his robe pocket and pushed it over to the two friends opposite him. It had been sitting there for _weeks_ thanks to Hermione's compulsive nature when it came to information. She just _had_ to make sure he had the damn sheet of information on the Basilisk as soon as possible.

After a few moments, Weasel looked up, his blue eyes as wide as saucers.

"Bloody h–"

"This is it, isn't it?" interrupted Harry, his eyes scanning the paper multiple times, "It's a Basilisk? Spiders flee from it… murderous stare… it explains _everything_! The pipes, too!"

"But no one was killed–" started Ron, obvious confusion written on his face.

Draco held back a long, suffering sigh.

"Each victim only saw a _reflection_ of the Basilisk," interrupted Draco quietly, his eyes flickering from side to side to ensure no one else could hear their conversation. "The water on the floor, Creevey's camera, the Ravenclaw student's mirror…"

"Myrtle was killed by this creature…" started Ron slowly, understanding dawning on his face, "Does that mean that the entrance…"

"… is in _Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?_" supplied Draco helpfully. "I thought so as well."

The surprise and excitement on the two Gryffindors' faces was priceless.

"We should tell McGonagall!" whisper-yelled Ron, getting up from the table.

Draco and Harry made to follow – Draco more reluctantly.

"We can go to the Staff Room! She'll be there soon!" replied the raven-haired man before looking over at Draco, who nodded in agreement, before turning around and finding his way out of the Great Hall.

Just as the brunet was about to leave the table as well, a sudden flash of parchment caught his eye and he turned back, his eyes landing on a small note with, curiously enough, his name on it.

The former-Slytherin's eyes widened when he recognized the handwriting.

_Hermione?_

Swallowing hard as a distinct sense of foreboding overcame him, he grabbed the note and quickly ran to keep up with the other two halves of the Golden Trio.

As the trio left the Great Hall, Draco thanked Merlin that Harry and Weasel were too preoccupied chatting about the Chamber to notice his preoccupation with the note.

Opening it immediately, his mouth dropped as he continued reading.

He was right.

He had been _right_.

Shutting his eyes tightly, he mentally cursed himself and the stupid, blonde bint. He was hoping she wouldn't do something this fucking stupid. Was she such an idiot? Anger rolled through his veins before it was quickly replaced by fear.

What if she was already dead?

Panic enveloped him and the brunet found it hard to breathe.

_Damn it. Fuck you, Hermione. Fuck you._

Furious and angry beyond measure, he looked up violently, ready to protest against going to the staff room. Fuck whatever Boy Wonder and Idiot Redhead thought about his actions. Hermione was _dying_ or possibly _dead_. Going to tell McGonagall was hardly–

Slamming into something hard, he nearly fell backward before righting himself.

Looking up and actually focusing on his surroundings, he locked eyes with Harry who was motioning for him to be quiet.

"I swear to–"

"SHHH!" whispered Ron loudly.

Draco turned to look at him, sneering. About to ask him why the bloody hell he should, the brunet stopped himself when he heard a loud voice. McGonagall. She was ordering everyone back to the dormitories.

Feeling a bit sick, he continued to follow Ron and Harry dumbly as they hid in a closet.

_Since when did we reach the Staff Room?_

Baffled at how lost in his own thoughts he had been, Draco listened intently. A sense of urgency was pushing at him. He needed to get the hell out of this closet. Hermione _was not allowed to die_. If she was going to die, it would be because _he'd_ be the one fucking doing it. Not bloody _Voldemort_.

Hearing footsteps, the three immediately stilled.

After a few moments, McGonagall's voice, filled with worry and trepidation, broke the silence.

"It has happened. A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber of Secrets, itself."

"How can you be sure?" asked Snape, his voice sounding strained.

"The Heir of Slytherin left another message," she replied, her voice shaking slightly, "Right underneath the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'"

There was a sharp intake of breath and the sound of someone sobbing as the sick feeling in Draco's stomach only increased.

"Who is it?" breathed Madame Hooch, "Which student?"

"Hermione Malfoy," McGonagall replied shakily.

Gasps rang out and Draco felt a bit faint. It was true. She actually _had_ sacrificed herself. Although all of this had been written in that idiotic note of hers, it was a completely different thing to hear McGonagall confirm it. He could feel the shock radiating off Harry and the triumph from Weasel.

"I _told_ you!" Ron whispered, "I–"

"SHUT UP!" snarled Draco in a low voice, turning to the redhead. Merlin, if the idiot said _one more thing_, he'd fucking _kill_ him. "This doesn't mean she's the bloody heir! She was _taken_!"

"Maybe–"

"Shut _up_, Ron," said Harry, his green eyes flickering from the redhead to Draco.

"Draco, we'll help her, alright?"

The brunet had no idea what he must have looked like to have Harry reassure him, but he concluded it must have been disturbing. Instead of responding, he chose to nod mutely before listening in as the door opened and slammed again.

As Draco heard Lockhart speak with such self-importance, he realized this may be one of the few, rare times he actually felt _thankful_ that Potter was alive. Lockhart going down into the Chamber by himself? What a fucking _joke_ that would be, especially considering Hermione told him the bastard tried to flee before going to face the monster.

Trying desperately to shelve the panic he felt at the thought that he might be left completely alone in this alternate universe unless they got going, the brunet focused completely on the professors' conversation. He would help Potter enter the Chamber and, in exchange, Potter would get Hermione out of there alive. He _had_ to.

That way, _Draco_ could be the one to kill her for making such a terrible life decision, especially considering she did it to protect the bloody _She-Weasel_.

* * *

_**Chamber of Secrets**_

Her eyes shot open to take in the vaguely familiar, pitch black, gloomy ceiling.

Frozen, she allowed her breathing to level out. She was alive.

_She was alive._

Draco did it.

Barely able to feel her hands from the dampness and cold, she pushed herself up, wincing slightly, only to lock eyes with the most brilliant, and familiar, shade of green she'd ever seen.

"Harry?" she breathed hoarsely, "You saved me?"

Despite how tired and dirty he looked, the raven-haired man sent her an awkward shrug and half-smile.

"Tom? He's… he's gone?" she swallowed hard, feeling a disturbing sense of loss when the raven-haired man nodded.

She tried not to dwell on it too much.

"Riddle _and_ the Basilisk."

"Thank you," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Oh, Harry! Thank you so much!" she threw her arms around his neck and instantly felt at ease.

"Look… er… Hermione… it was nothing, uh… we should probably, er, go–"

"Right! Of course!" she agreed, quickly releasing him and standing up.

The abrupt movement sent the world spinning as black spots popped up in her vision and before she knew what had happened, she felt Harry's hands grip her arms tightly.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione paused for a moment, allowing the black spots to dissipate, before nodding a few times.

"Yes… yes I think I'm alright now."

A thick silence permeated the air as they walked side-by-side down the long Chamber pathway.

"So it really was you," Harry stated bluntly, a bit of disbelief in his voice. "_You_ opened the Chamber."

"I did, but…" the blonde stopped herself from saying something stupid at the last moment.

"But…"

The raven-haired man turned to look at her curiously.

"But," she sighed, "Riddle possessed me. I… I think I may have accidentally taken the diary from Ginny that day when we all met in Flourish & Blotts. She fell and I helped her grab her stuff–"

_The Basilisk venom. __**You need the Basilisk venom.**_

The sudden thought startled the Slytherin, and she paused abruptly.

Feeling Harry's eyes on her, she turned around quickly and, instead, focused her gaze on the Basilisk's carcass.

"Harry, I think my wand is still there on the floor. I'll catch up with you?"

She could feel his surprise.

"What d'you mean? I can stay here and–"

"No, that's fine. I'm sure everyone is extremely worried," she cut in quickly, finally turning to look at him. "Go ahead and tell them we're alright. I think I'll be able to manage on my own for a moment," she tried to give him a reassuring smile.

_Merlin, I hope it doesn't look like I'm in pain._

His green eyes flashed with suspicion for a moment before he nodded reluctantly and walked away.

Relieved, Hermione turned to look, once again, at the dead Basilisk. Wincing at the image, she walked slowly to it after ensuring Harry was out of sight.

* * *

Locking her gaze with a pair of familiar, silver eyes, Hermione reluctantly stumbled over the mound of rocks – most of which had been cleared away – to face the wrath of Malfoy.

She walked over to him slowly, a guilty look on her face as she tried to smile.

"Hi," Hermione squeaked when she was just a foot away.

Draco looked completely calm on the outside. His eyes, however, were chilling.

"When we meet again – and don't even say we won't because I will surely make it happen before the school year is over –" interrupted the brunet sharply when she tried to open her mouth, "we are going to _talk_."

The look in his eyes, however, told her there would be no talking during this meeting – only enraged screaming.

"Right," she muttered irritably, "Thanks, by the way, for saving my life. I appreciate it," Hermione added sarcastically, hoping to convey her hatred towards this idea of his through the tone of her voice.

"I only did it," Draco spoke in a tone so quiet and so dangerous that Hermione couldn't help but wince, "so I can bloody kill you myself."

"Good luck," she retorted, trying to sound braver than she felt.

"I don't need it."

"I severely doubt that."

"You doubt everything."

"When it's in relation to you, yes… yes I do."

"Yes, because _I_ was the one lying to you the _entire fucking year_," he whispered angrily.

Hermione whirled to look at him, anger washing through her system. Momentarily forgetting they were in the presence of three others, her voice grew high and shrill.

"Yes, because I did this just to bloody _spite_ you, right? Poor Draco, always thinking everything is about _him_. Well, sometimes," she spat, her brown eyes furious, "there are more _important_ things."

"YOU ALMOST DIED!" he roared, spinning around to glare hatefully at her, "NO ONE IS WORTH YOUR LIFE!"

"WHAT ABOUT YOUR PARENTS?!" she yelled back, "YOUR _TASK_?! Remember _that_?!"

There was a pause as they just stared at each other furiously, chests heaving and eyes wide with anger.

"That's different," Draco finally snarled, "Of course they're worth it. That's my _family_. Your stupid friend? She's not."

"_She's as good as_," Hermione hissed, clenching her hands.

* * *

"What is going _on_?" asked Harry, frowning from the sidelines next to Ron and Lockhart as Draco and Hermione had at it.

Nothing they were saying was making any sort of sense.

"Lovers' quarrel," chirped Lockhart dreamily.

"_Lovers' quarrel_?" Ron spat the words out of his mouth as though they were acid. "Merlin, you're bloody mental! I reckon I need to hit this one over the head again, Harry!" exclaimed the red-head, turning to look at the man in question incredulously.

Lockhart recoiled and stared at Ron with terror as Harry's eyes flickered over to the two angry second years. Feeling weariness seep into his bones – Hermione's voice, in particular, was starting to give him a headache – he started to get angry.

He was hungry, drained, and completely _exhausted_ from the turn of events today. Now was not the time for stupid arguments.

"SHUT _UP_!" he yelled.

Silence followed his words as the quarreling Slytherin and Gryffindor turned to look at him, shock apparent on their faces.

"Now," he said petulantly, happy to have their undivided attention, "if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if we could get out of here. I don't know about either of you, but I am tired and hungry and don't want to stand around and listen to pointless arguing. _Let's go_."

Draco made a sour face as Hermione stayed quiet, seemingly catching her breath from her shrill ranting earlier.

"Thank you," he commented shortly, relieved that they had finally shut their mouths before turning to walk to the entrance of the Chamber.

Everyone shuffled quietly around the coils of the Basilisk's skin before going over the threshold and into the pipe. As the door shut with a dull thud, Harry caught sight of brilliant red and gold. Instantly recognizing Fawkes, he walked over to the bird, noting the way the Phoenix fluttered his long, golden tail feathers.

There was a moment of silence before Hermione's weary voice pierced the cold, damp air.

"He wants you to hold onto it, Harry," she explained tiredly, "He can fly us out of here."

"Right," he nodded, turning to look at the unlikely group of people. "Ron, grab Lockhart's hand–"

"That's you," cut in Ron aggressively, raising his eyebrows a bit at Lockhart.

The blond Professor stepped nervously over to the redhead and gingerly took a hold of his hand.

"–and Lockhart, grab Draco's. Draco, you'll be holding Hermione."

"You've got to be bloody kidding–"

"I'm not," interrupted Harry sharply.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, the brunet made an expression of disgust as he took the Slytherin's hand.

The blonde just rolled her eyes.

"Gods, Draco. It's not like I have bloody _cooties_."

"You have _what_?"

"Nothing," she muttered, sighing and clasping his hand more firmly in her own.

Choosing to ignore both of them, and after ensuring that the Sorting Hat and the Gryffindor Sword were both tucked firmly onto his belt, he took Fawkes' curiously hot tail feathers into his hand and held on tight.

An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through his whole body and the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe.

"Amazing! _Amazing_!" yelled Lockhart happily, "This is just like magic!"

Looking down momentarily, his eyes flickered from Lockhart's amazed expression to the two holding each other underneath the _Obliviated_ Professor.

Squinting his eyes, Harry could just barely make out the words Hermione was whispering to Draco.

Thinking back to that fleeting moment later on, he realized the words she had been saying were not only a peace offering to his testy, brunet friend – indicating she wanted to end their fight by appealing to his more egotistical nature – but they were also a show of her truly one-of-a-kind personality.

"… _I'm sorry."_

* * *

**Hugs and kisses to:** _Guest, monkeygirlalli, HazelMalfoy18, McKenzie Shea, Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini, RZZMG, The Last Poison Apple, sevinaq, HermionenDraco368, DestinyOrton, princesspay10, somebody, Dancing Drifter, dormientemdraco, Eventual Evanescence, krista12, LittleMissHugALot, foreverellen, Calimocho, Like A Clockwork Orange, Kim Malfoy, Victoria, Sarah Savage, Natarks (I'll update TDLD, I promise!), flaming-twilight, Bianca the crazy slytherin, arabellagrace, HarryPotterGeneration, SasoriHime05, DeviaLyanMalfoi, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16. _I could cry from all of your lovely reviews :) Apologies for not having this out sooner (I was doing so well updating weekly for awhile... damn it!) A lot of personal things happened in both my life and my beta's and I really wanted to give her some time to adjust to the amount of shit that hit the fan in her personal life. I also recently got a Tumblr and have been completely addicted. SHIT. WHERE HAS IT BEEN ALL MY LIFE? IT IS COMPLETE AND UTTER PERFECTION. Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for it? Next chapter will be the conclusion of everyone's second year before we start on year #3! EEP. I'm so excited... they're all beginning to grow up... ;)

PS: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAVE A GREAT NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

_Question: Which school year are you most excited for?_

Please do**_ favorite/alert/review! _**

* * *

_**Tumblr: potterston**_

* * *

_**Twitter: mnadzz**_


	15. Better Late Than Never

**Chapter 15 – Better Late Than Never**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Outside the Headmaster's Office – 05/30/1993**_

"_Father_?"

Hermione stepped into the hallway, allowing the morning sun to illuminate her face. Her eyes were glued to Lucius's right hand which was, quite obviously, moving to withdraw his wand and curse the boy in front of him. Dobby stood between the two holding a dirty sock, his eyes wide as saucers, and his hands up in a protective stance.

"Hermione."

The man paused before straightening immediately and turning to look at her. She could tell he was absolutely _seething_. Her eyes flickered from him to Harry, who looked a bit relieved at her intrusion.

"Are you alright?"

She looked back at her father who, she realized, with a jolt, looked quite guilty and a bit haggard.

"Yes, of course," she replied quietly as he walked towards her, inspecting her from head to toe with his familiar, grey eyes. "I wouldn't have been if it hadn't been for Harry. He rescued me. I would be dead otherwise."

His face twitched with something that looked a lot like a mixture between furious hatred and self-loathing before he schooled his features once more and turned to look at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Yes," he hissed coldly, "Let's hope that Mr. Potter will always be around to _save the day_."

"Don't worry. I will be," Harry replied haughtily, his eyes flickering over to Dobby significantly.

Lucius's nostrils flared as his face contorted into one of pure hatred.

"Mark my words, Potter. You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents. They were meddlesome fools, too," he snarled. "Come, Hermione."

Biting her tongue to keep quiet, Hermione allowed herself to be whisked away by Lucius, who was holding her quite tightly and – dare she say it – _protectively_. Allowing one last look at Harry and Dobby, the blonde sent the wizard an apologetic glance and Dobby a small, wary smile, before rounding the corner.

* * *

_**Great Hall**_

"Harry… Harry! HARRY!" Hermione raised her voice as she made her way over to the Gryffindor table.

A few people quieted down in shock when she finally made it over. The former-Gryffindor paid them no attention. She had never cared much about what others thought, anyway.

Tapping him lightly on the shoulder, Hermione watched as shock passed across his features when he finally turned around and caught sight of her.

"Er… yes? Hermione?"

"I'm sorry about my father," she whispered, grimacing a bit. "He doesn't understand the meaning of being grateful, I suppose–"

"How in the world did you get sorted into Slytherin?" interrupted Harry, frowning.

Taken off-guard by his question, her eyes flickered from him to Draco, who was watching the conversation discreetly, and then to Ron, who was staring at her aggressively. Swallowing a pang of hurt at her former-boyfriend's hateful gaze, she looked back at Harry, shrugging slightly.

"If I didn't, father wouldn't have been too happy, is all." Smirking a bit at Harry, she continued, "I suppose I'm more of a Gryffindor than any of the other houses, to be honest."

Her eyes flickered from her former-best-friend to Draco, who was watching the exchange dispassionately.

"Well, I should probably–"

"Hermione, you can sit down, if you'd like."

"–get–wait, _what_?" she asked, her eyes widening.

Harry shrugged.

"Go ahead."

"What are you–" began Ron, his blue eyes wide.

"Shut up, Ron," muttered Draco, rolling his eyes. "It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't ma–? SHE'S A _SLYTHERIN_! SHE CAN'T SIT HERE!" he yelled.

Hermione thanked Merlin it was too loud in the Great Hall for his comment to be heard. Used to his terrible perception of her by now, she tried not to let it affect her as much as usual. He was just pig-headed. If Harry could see that she wasn't that bad, then it was only a matter of time for Ron.

"She's a friend, Ron," snapped Harry, turning to look at the red-head incredulously, "I don't know why I didn't see it before."

And with that, the raven-haired boy moved over to give her some space.

Unable to stop a smile from creeping up on her face – and the balloon of hope in her chest that screamed at her that their friendship was still salvageable – she quickly sat down before giving Harry another hug.

So caught up in the happiness of the moment was she, that the blonde didn't catch the two pairs of angry, narrowed eyes that watched the exchange.

* * *

Revulsion washed through Draco as he watched Hermione practically strangle Harry to death in the middle of the Great Hall. The worst part was the raven haired man seemed to be _used_ to it. How the hell could someone get used to _that_?

"Thanks, Harry!" Hermione chirped happily, grinning at him wildly.

The Boy-Who-Lived shrugged awkwardly again before giving her a small smile.

"Can we stop with the mushy-gushy stuff?" snapped Draco, disgusted. Feeling a bit evil, the brunet continued. "If you two want to be alone, perhaps you should leave."

The happiness slid so quickly off Hermione's face that Draco almost suspected she was waiting for some sort of comment to ruin to the moment. Potter, on the other hand, to Draco's ultimate glee, became so red that the color rivaled Weasel's hair.

Smirking malevolently, Draco wiggled his eyebrows.

"Not too off the mark, eh?"

"Bloody hell, Draco," said Ron, looking nauseous at his insinuation, "Harry would n–"

"What? Are you jealous?" hissed Hermione, furious.

"Never," he snapped, his happiness deflating.

It wasn't every day one managed to piss off Granger, make Weasel nauseous, _and_ get Potter uncomfortable with one sentence. He owed himself a fucking _pat on the back_ for this one. Therefore, how _dare_ Hermione ruin it for him with that absurd comment?

"I hate you," spat the former-Gryffindor.

Draco could have sworn he heard Ron mutter something that sounded like "yeah right" under his breath. The brunet chose to ignore that comment completely.

"Good," he replied carelessly.

"You disgust me."

"The feeling's mutu–"

"Could you both just shut up?" asked Harry and Weasel sharply.

Draco shot them both dirty looks before flashing Hermione one of complete loathing and turning to pick at his food.

Another year.

_Gone_.

And what had he to show for it?

_Nothing_.

He was no closer to going home than he was two years ago, he had a couple of idiots as friends, and Hermione was getting everything she wanted.

Merlin, he hated his life. No, he hated _this_ life, and he hated _her_. Somehow, she managed to get the best of both worlds – his friends _and_ hers.

Draco's eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table. Scanning the familiar faces glumly, he found there was one in particular that stood out.

Blaise Zabini's.

The dark-skinned Slytherin wasn't participating in the fun. Draco suspected he heard about the incident and knew it was Hermione that had almost been killed.

What interested Draco, however, was the fact that his former-friend didn't seem even _remotely_ happy. Instead, he was staring at the back of Hermione's head angrily.

_Maybe this __**is**__ a good end-of-the-year feast. _

By the deadly look Blaise was giving the blonde, it was obvious that a row was just waiting to happen between the two. The fact that Hermione would be hurt and angry later in the day gave Draco some sort of sick pleasure, and he grinned and caught Hermione's eyes.

She just stared at him angrily – to which he grinned even more – before looking away.

Maybe she wouldn't be getting the best of both worlds, after all.

* * *

It seemed no matter how many times she put aside her pride and was nice to the stupid git in front of her, he _still_ took advantage of her.

She said she was sorry for lying, but couldn't he see it was necessary? Was he so daft? It was obvious that if she told him about this earlier, he would have tried to sabotage it and all would have been lost this year.

He was such an arrogant arse-hole.

And now, because he was so blinded by himself, he couldn't seem to let the incident go.

Malfoy just didn't understand and Hermione had no idea how to even _begin_ to explain her decision to him.

After that screaming match in the Chamber, he _still_ didn't get it.

_I suppose that's how it is for all Slytherins_, Hermione thought bitterly, _They think only of themselves. _

That shit-eating grin that he sent her moments ago, to be honest, had her on edge.

Draco knew something she didn't.

That was never a good thing.

Feeling a set of eyes boring a hole through her, Hermione looked up from under her lashes at the brunet in front of her. Frowning slightly when she realized he wasn't the one staring her down, she looked over to Harry and Ron. Feeling slightly perturbed that they weren't either, she slowly turned around in her seat to look behind her.

The blonde's stomach dropped when she locked gazes with a pair of volatile, dark eyes.

Blaise.

Turning back around quickly, she caught Draco's eyes again.

The bastard sent her a lazy smirk and a wink before turning once more to his food.

It took all of her self-restraint to stop herself from strangling him.

Thankfully, at that precise moment, Hagrid entered the Great Hall and all worrisome thoughts pertaining to Draco and Blaise vanished for the time being.

* * *

_**Hogwart's Express – 06/19/1993**_

"Good luck."

"Shut up, Draco."

"You'll need it. Blaise looked _extremely_ pissed that day."

"Keep talking and I'll hex you so terribly, _you'll_ need the luck instead."

"Fine, Hermione," sang the brunet in a deliberately annoying fashion.

Merlin, she needed to find a compartment and _fast_. His annoying voice in her ear was just riling her up more and more.

"Oh, and I forgive you."

"_What_?" she stopped walking and turned around to face him incredulously.

"Yeah," he shrugged before sneering, "I mean, Blaise looked like he was going to murder you for sitting with us. I feel bad," he said in a tone that indicated he felt anything but. "The least I can do is forgive you for being such a _bitch_ this year."

Swallowing hard at the insult, she closed her eyes to stop the familiar burning sensation of tears. Taking a few deep breaths to stop herself from _Avada Kedavra_'ing his arse, she counted to ten in her head.

When Hermione was finally sure she was alright, she opened her eyes. Catching sight of his horrible, superior smirk, all promises she had made to be calm and just walk away were immediately broken.

"You are _cruel_," she spat, "you are _terrible_, and you are _just like your father_," she snarled.

Registering the shock on his face, she smiled sarcastically at him before turning on her heel, finding the closest compartment and shutting herself in and locking the door.

Sitting down and looking out the window, Hermione let the angry tears fall.

The former-Gryffindor knew she'd been called a bitch before – most likely by Ron behind her back – but it was a _completely_ different story when it was said right to her _face_. She found it hurt even _more_. All she wanted was to make peace this year. She and Draco – the idea of them as being even _moderately_ friendly to one another – seemed to slowly become a lost dream. The notion that they may have been able to put aside their differences in this alternate universe was slowly fading.

Perhaps they were always meant to be enemies.

The worst part was, she had actually _tried_ to be nice. And what did that get her? A whole load of pain, hurt, unneeded guilt, a bruised ego, and unending irritation and fury.

The worst part was, Draco might have been _right_.

Thinking about it from his idiotic perspective, it seemed like she _had_ been a bitch this year.

Perhaps it was time for her to try and help Harry and Ron on her own. Perhaps she really didn't need Draco. Whenever they seemed to be even a _little_ bit civilized to one another, something cropped up and the progress they'd made in the friendship department was gone.

Swallowing hard, Hermione felt a distinct sense of loss at the idea that she would have to work alone from now on. No matter what Draco thought of her, she had always thought him pleasant. Well, at least during the few times they'd actually been decent to each other.

Thinking of all the other times they'd fought, a sudden, small flicker of hope grew in Hermione's chest.

Perhaps they'd move past this. He had to help her. She wished she could ask anyone – _anyone_ other than him – to help, but it seemed Fate was a cruel thing. Of all people, she had to be stuck with _him_. She couldn't just give up and decide never to talk to him again, right? They had to work together to get back to their original universe. They couldn't just bloody stay here. They were meant to go back. No, they were meant to learn something from this experience – not bicker the entire time and act like children.

Hermione had to trust him. She couldn't keep lying. She wouldn't. She _shouldn't_. She realized that now. Her stupid idea to keep him in the dark this past year was a wrong one. If they got past this fight – _No_, she thought, _**When**__ they got past this_ – Hermione would never lie to him again. She'd tell him the truth. After all, she owed him that much.

Nodding quickly and deciding not to throw everything so out of proportion and become extremely dramatic – despite the fact that she was known for being dramatic – Hermione rubbed her face and tried to erase all signs of her tears.

_Just wait and see, Hermione, _she thought determinedly, _You'll come back from break and everything will be back to normal with Draco._

Deciding not to worry about it, Hermione curled up on the seat and watched as the train slowly began to move, satisfied with her line of thinking.

Before she knew it, the scenery blurred and sleep claimed her.

* * *

"You've been quiet."

_Wonderful. Weasel decides to be observant __**today**__, of all days._

"I'm tired," he lied easily, staring resolutely out the window.

"Just leave him alone, Ron," whispered Harry audibly, "He's not in the talking mood."

Sighing, Draco went back to tuning out Potter and Weasley like he had been for the past hour now.

He blamed Granger for his foul mood.

Not that _that_ was anything new. He _always_ blamed Granger.

This time, however, she made him feel an emotion he _despised_ feeling – guilt.

Despite what she said in retaliation to his comment – which had thoroughly shocked him – she had seemed more upset than usual about what he'd said.

And then, after she had stormed away and locked herself in a compartment, he found he had the insane urge to _apologize_. _To fucking_ _apologize_.

She hadn't reacted that strongly to his taunts and cruel words since their actual second year when he'd called her a mud-blood.

Maybe he'd taken it too far this time.

Sighing again, his head against the glass window, Draco closed his eyes.

_This_ was why he hated emotion. Apologizing was not something he did… ever. Just the idea of it was so unappealing and unnatural that it made him grimace. Yet, for some reason, he decided he'd do it anyway. She'd apologized so many times for things that maybe, just maybe, were actually _his_ to apologize for.

Besides, somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco realized that he owed her one. _He really owed her one. _

Mentally cursing himself and her, he banged his head multiple times on the glass and ignored Weasel and Harry's strange looks his way.

Merlin, this was going to be so fucking _horrifying _to do. He could just imagine the terrible grin on her face when he finally said it. She would probably hug him, too. She bloody _loved_ hugging.

Draco shuddered at the thought. He'd be prepared this time if she tried anything again.

Once was more than enough.

Shuddering again at the memory of her practically knocking him off his feet a year ago, he closed his eyes and prayed fruitlessly to Merlin that when he woke up, he'd find himself back in his real life – a life where he didn't have to feel guilty _or_ apologize.

* * *

_**King's Cross**_

Hermione ran off the train and onto the platform. She wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Although a fight with Blaise was inevitable – they'd be seeing each other again _sometime_ over the Summer holidays, after all – she found she'd rather put off the argument.

Walking quickly, her eyes searched the station. It wasn't too long until she found a family of three dressed in all black, save for their platinum-colored hair. Heaving a sigh of relief at the prospect of having found the Malfoys, she began to walk over.

A chill ran down her spine when she finally caught eyes with her brother, who gave her a pained smile. Something wasn't right.

"Hermione," he greeted softly before she pulled him in for a hug.

"What's happened?" she whispered, hugging him tightly as worry settled in the pit of her stomach.

"A lot has happened since you've been away," he whispered ambiguously.

Before she could ask what exactly had happened, she was pulled into a tight hug by Narcissa.

"_Hermione_," she breathed.

The blonde swallowed when she heard the emotion in Narcissa's voice and hugged back tightly. It seemed the Malfoy matriarch knew what had transpired and had been worried sick.

"You're safe, _I'm so happy you're safe_."

_I wonder if Narcissa knows Lucius was behind it all. _

Hermione got her answer not a moment later when Lucius moved in to talk to her. Narcissa looked up at him before tightening her arms around Hermione.

"Don't touch her," she hissed protectively.

Lucius stopped and took a deep breath.

"I'm just greeting my _daughter_, Narci–"

"She's _my_ daughter, too. Let's go home," she interrupted forcefully as she dragged Hermione to stand next to her and Oberon.

Hermione glanced at her younger brother who was watching the ground like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

Glancing at Lucius, all she had time to register was his pained expression before Narcissa apparated them away with a barely audible _crack_.

-xxx-

**End of Year 2**

-xxx-

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	16. True

**Chapter 16 – True**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Malfoy Manor – 07/24/1993**_

Hermione had been successfully avoiding Blaise for over half of their Summer holidays. The fact that he was traveling with his mother and her new husband to Italy helped a lot in that respect.

Unfortunately, however, today was the day they'd finally meet since she locked eyes with him in the Great Hall those few months ago. Hermione would be lying if she claimed she was ready for this conversation because she sure as hell was _not_.

Despite that, she was sitting in the living room next to Oberon and fiddling nervously with her fingers. The Zabinis were due any moment and Hermione had absolutely no idea what to expect.

Hearing voices coming from the hallway, the blonde immediately tensed.

_They're here._

* * *

It had been a good two hours and twelve minutes _exactly_ since she first saw Blaise. Since that moment, he'd barely even acknowledged her existence. Not only was that disturbing, but also quite worrisome. Either she'd dreamt up the entire ordeal, or he was being casually ignorant for some reason.

Surprised at his lack of any real emotion, she decided to take things into her own hands.

Hence the reason they were now in her room. The door was shut and locked with a _Muffliato_ for good measure. For some reason, Hermione felt like this conversation earned complete privacy.

Blaise was currently seated on the end of her bed, a nasty scowl on his face as she stared at him nervously.

"_Yes_, Hermione?" he muttered, irritated. "Is there a certain reason you practically jumped me and threw me in here other than to stare at me? I'm surprised you didn't tie me up or blindfold–"

Unable to keep it in any longer – her curiosity was _killing_ her – she finally blurted out her questions in a fast mess of words.

"I thought you were angry at me or was I missing something or perhaps I just conjured everything that happened in the Great Hall inside my head, but, I mean, if I did then you wouldn't be giving me that hateful scowl and glaring at me, so that leads me to believe that yes, I am correct, but you've been awfully quiet this entire time, which may mean you don't really care or I'm wrong."

She paused momentarily to glance at him. He was staring at her like she'd grown three heads.

_Is that a good sign?_

Disregarding any thoughts begging her to shut her mouth, she continued on even quicker than before.

"But, I mean, you obviously _do_ care because otherwise you wouldn't be ignoring me all this time. I know the way you operate and I'm terribly confused as to what exactly is going on – if anything – between us because I'm getting entirely mixed emotions and behavior and I'm not quite sure what to think. I mean, you've been cooperating with Oberon, which is interesting considering how much you two seem to dislike each other, yet you've completely ignored me, but haven't given me any dirty looks since that day in the Great Hall – and yes, I'm not counting the angry and half-confused frown you're giving me right now as any sort of dirty look because I suppose you're giving me this look only because of my ridiculous monologuing, but I'm defending myself right now–"

"Shut up."

Faltering with her speech momentarily, she frowned at him.

"But I'm not–"

"Shut up, Hermione."

"Aren't you angry? Will you answer my questions or not? I'm–"

"Merlin, Hermione. _Shut up_."

"You're my _friend_, Blaise," she replied swiftly, "I don't know… could you stop being so _rude_?"

"_Rude_?!" he replied loudly, his eyes flashing to hers with barely repressed fury, "You ignored me for most of the feast, barely even acknowledged how worried I was about you after finding out you were taken by the monster into the Chamber and, on top of that, you befriended bloody _Gryffindors_. And, despite all this, you're telling me _I'm_ the rude one?!"

Swallowing hard, Hermione realized he might have a point.

"I'm leaving," he hissed, getting up from the bed angrily.

"No, wait, stop," the blonde blurted out, blocking the doorway.

"Get out of my way, Hermione," Blaise warned, his jaw clenched.

"I'm sorry, alright?" she said quickly.

At least that got his attention. His dark eyes snapped to hers in muted surprise; she took it as a silent sign to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione pushed away the thoughts that told her she was apologizing for far too much nowadays and plowed on. To be honest, she missed Blaise. He reminded her of Draco – except the dark-skinned Slytherin was much more polite and fun to be around, and she was glad to finally have a friend like that.

"I can admit that what I did was wrong," she continued, her brown eyes conveying how truly sorry she was. "I shouldn't have acted like that, alright? It was selfish to think you'd just be fine with my behavior. I just… I had a lot going on."

He stared at her for a few moments, frowning. It seemed like he was trying to read her and she, once again, felt uncomfortable.

"I know," he finally replied.

After a few more moments of staring, the dark-skinned Slytherin relaxed before nodding a few times.

"We've been friends for our entire lives, Hermione," he began, sighing, "It would be a shame to throw that all away for something as bloody stupid as miscommunication."

A slow smile appeared on the blonde's face as what Blaise said sunk in. They were alright. They were _friends_.

"However," he continued, eyeing her smile warily, "I do want to know why you're so… _buddy-buddy_ with Pot, Weasel, and Mud-blood."

"They saved my life," she replied simply, shrugging, "There are some things people can't go through without becoming friends along the way, I suppose."

Blaise scowled and Hermione, being smart enough to tell the difference between a volatile and angry Blaise and a slightly playful but irritated Blaise, threw her arms around him, a grin on her face.

Practically feeling him roll his eyes, his answer to her actions was just a barely heard grumble of "_women_" under his breath.

* * *

_**07/31/1993**_

Clearing things up with Blaise did a lot for Hermione's thought process. She had been filled with worry about their friendship and that, coupled with the fact that the blonde had also been worried about her relationship with Draco, hadn't helped her one bit in the thinking department.

Now, however, she could safely say that she was much more focused on the real problem this year – Sirius and Wormtail. Throwing away such an amazing opportunity to find justice for Sirius by letting things unfold the way they did in her previous life would be a terrible mistake and a waste.

This time, she'd make sure Pettigrew was caught and thrown in Azkaban for his crimes. He _deserved_ to be locked up just as much as Sirius deserved the right to roam the world cleared of all charges.

That meant using the Time-Turner was essential once again this year and, thinking ahead, the blonde had ensured her enrollment into all classes save _dreadful_ Divination. She could barely repress a snort at the thought of enduring that ridiculous subject again.

Hermione focused all of her time on this. It seemed that being mindful of the future was the only way the blonde could keep her mind off the fact that yet _another_ year had passed, and she was _still_ stuck in this alternate dimension.

Shaking her head lightly to come back to reality, the blonde quickly placed the letter she'd been writing into an envelope and addressed it to Harry.

It was his birthday today.

* * *

_**Diagon Alley – 08/20/1993**_

"You _asked_ the Sorting Hat to put you into Slytherin?"

"Well, yes. Don't look at me like that, Oberon. I wasn't sure if I'd be placed into Ravenclaw or Slytherin and you know how crazy father is about the Sorting," replied Hermione quickly. "It makes perfect sense and, like I told you, the Sorting Hat took my decision into account and placed me in Slytherin. If you're so unsure, you can always just beg to be sorted there. I'm sure it'll listen to you."

"You're probably right," sighed Oberon, frowning. "That doesn't erase the fear, though. And, on top of that, who would want to beg a bloody hat for a favor? That's pitiful."

"Language," Hermione warned before shrugging. "Besides, 'Ron, fear isn't real. It's a product of your own thoughts."

"_How profound_," scowled Oberon, his voice full of sarcasm. "Someone should give you a medal–"

"Oh shut up."

"Stop bickering you two," admonished Narcissa, "We're out in public. _Don't _embarrass me."

They both rolled their eyes before acknowledging the warning. Hermione and Oberon had kept their arguments and sibling fights to a minimum this Summer. After the news of the former-Gryffindor's almost-death found Narcissa, her relationship with Lucius had become virtually non-existent to the point where they almost never spoke during the day or went out together. Hermione was either with one parent or the other. The last time they'd been within five feet of each other was to pick up Hermione at King's Cross station. Since that moment, they had both pretended – at least, _Narcissa_ pretended – like the other didn't exist.

It was a bit on the alarming side, but Hermione found she couldn't do anything about it. On top of this, she blamed herself for some of it. It was her fault the diary was in her possession in the first place, after all. _She_ was the one that made it happen. If she'd let things progress like they would have normally, with Ginny being taken into the Chamber, Narcissa and Lucius's relationship would have continued like normal.

_But if I hadn't taken the diary, I wouldn't have gotten the Basilisk venom or become closer to Harry, _thought Hermione, frowning.

Regardless of how bad it might have sounded, the former-Gryffindor was happy to have taken the diary and changed Ginny's fate. Not only did it save the girl from a terrible first year, but it also brought her Harry's acceptance and friendship and that meant a bit more to her than the state of Narcissa and Lucius's marriage.

It wasn't too long until the Malfoy Matriarch caught sight of another one of her friends in Diagon Alley. Handing Hermione enough galleons to pay for her books, Oberon's books, and enough books for the rest of bloody Hogwarts, she shooed them off into Flourish & Blotts.

Hermione walked over excitedly, her eyes flickering to the display windows. Catching sight of _The Monster Book of Monsters_ – over a hundred copies all in a huge iron cage fighting with each other – memories from her third year washed over her and she grinned.

Entering the shop, she took in a deep breath. She'd never grow accustomed to the amazing smell of books.

"Here we go," Oberon muttered under his breath, glancing around the bookshop. "Could you _try_ not to embarrass me by buying the entire store?"

Hermione shot him a dirty glance, to which he just smirked, before looking around for their school books.

Rounding a corner, Hermione heard familiar voices. Tilting her head, the blonde walked closer until she saw a young man with raven-black hair and an older, tired-looking wizard.

"_Unfogging the Future_. Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods–"

"Harry?"

The two both glanced over just as Oberon rounded the corner.

"Hermione?" he responded, surprised.

The manager grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like "unappreciative youths" before walking away.

Smiling, she walked over to Harry and gave him a quick hug.

"Getting your school books as well?" she asked, her eyes flickering from his to the books under his arm.

"Yes," he replied, adjusting his glasses awkwardly, his face a little pink. "I suppose you are too?"

"I–"

"'Mione, who is this? Is this Harry… as in Harry _Potter_?" cut in Oberon, his nose scrunching as he regarded the Boy-Who-Lived.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes before grabbing Oberon's sleeve and yanking him over.

"Harry, this is my younger brother, Oberon. This is going to be his first year at Hogwarts."

The emerald-eyed boy watched her younger brother warily, nodding, but making no move to shake his hand.

"Honestly, 'Ron?" she looked over at her brother, an eyebrow raised. "Manners."

The blond eyed Harry with contempt.

"I think I'll pass," he replied before leaving the two.

Hermione watched him go angrily.

"Pleasant one, your brother," commented Harry wryly.

"I'm sorry on his behalf. He's usually more well-mannered than that."

Harry shrugged.

"Not everyone can be as accepting as you are. Thanks for the birthday wishes, by the way."

The blonde smiled.

"Of course. But anyway," Hermione frowned, her eyes glued to Oberon's retreating figure, "he can at least _attempt_ to be civil."

* * *

_**08/21/1993**_

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Harry, he's gorgeous! I have to get him!"

"Hermione… he looks like a, a–"

The blonde turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

"–an… _interesting_ cat. Are you _positive_–"

"I'd like to buy this cat, please," Hermione notified the shop owner.

"The ginger one?" asked the owner, frowning, "Are you–"

"_Yes_, I'm bloody positive!" she snapped, looking from Harry, who shut his mouth, to the store manager incredulously. "I'm not an idiot!"

The manager just nodded and grabbed the cat, bringing him to the store counter.

"What are you going to call him?" asked Harry, watching her warily as she threw galleons onto the table quickly.

Holding her hands open for the cat after paying, Hermione couldn't stop the grin on her face as the half-kneazle climbed into her arms and immediately started purring. Holding the ginger cat to her tightly, Hermione felt more at ease than ever. Merlin, had she missed him.

"Crookshanks," she finally breathed, her eyes flashing to Harry's. "His name is Crookshanks."

* * *

_**08/31/1993**_

"So you _actually_ blew up your aunt?" asked Draco, his grey eyes alight curiosity as Weasel King guffawed.

Harry shrugged.

"It's not like I meant to. I just… lost control."

"And you weren't expelled? Not a hearing or anything?"

"Forget expelled. I thought I was going to be _arrested_."

Draco barked out a laugh at the thought of the Boy-Who-Lived getting arrested.

_Potter could kill someone and get away with it._

"It's probably 'cause it's you, isn't it," shrugged Ron, still laughing. "Famous Harry Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to _me_ if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first because Mum would've _killed_ me."

"That wouldn't be a loss to the Wizarding World, now would it, Weasel?" joked Draco, smirking.

The redhead just rolled his eyes, used to Draco's taunts by now, as Harry grinned.

* * *

_**King's Cross – 09/01/1993**_

Walking away from Lucius and Narcissa – both of whom were standing next to each other so stiffly it was bordering on ostentatious – Hermione and 'Ron boarded the train.

"_Please_ don't tell me we have to sit with Blaise or Pansy," grumbled 'Ron as his eyes flickered around the inside of the train.

"Whether you like it or not, Blaise is a good friend of mine. You know that. I can't say the same for Pansy, though," she huffed, rolling her eyes and repositioning Crookshanks under her arm as she thought of the rude, bitchy, violet-eyed Slytherin.

"Just say the word and I'll infect her clothing with something nasty," smirked 'Ron.

"No, you won't. If anyone is infecting Parkinson's clothing, it'll be _me_."

Hermione frowned for a moment.

"Wait… that didn't come out ri–"

"Wonderful, let me know when you do. I'd like to take a few pictures."

Not bothering to say anything seeing as Oberon would just twist her words, Hermione settled with sending him the dirtiest look she could muster – this wasn't too hard since he was sporting a smug, little smirk – before continuing on.

* * *

_**Hogwart's Express**_

Getting away from the Slytherins was easy enough.

The hard part was the encounter Hermione would have as soon as she opened the door of the compartment in front of her.

After taking a few deep breaths to try and relax herself, the blonde finally slid it open.

Her eyes immediately found the sleeping figure of Professor Lupin before traveling hesitantly to Ron and then Harry.

"Hullo, Hermione," Harry smiled.

"Hey," she greeted, "Could I, um, sit here, for awhile?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," replied the raven-haired boy, moving over to give her some space to sit next to him.

"Thanks," she responded, smiling slightly as she took the seat right across from Draco.

An awkward silence followed Hermione's actions and the blonde found herself staring resolutely at Crookshanks, who was watching the new people – Ron and Pettigrew, in particular – very closely.

"Is that a _cat_?" Ron finally asked, eyeing Crookshanks wearily.

"Half-kneazle and half-cat, actually," Hermione corrected, petting Crooks on the head lovingly, "Isn't he wonderful?" Ron eyed the cat in disgust. Crookshanks hissed suddenly causing the redhead to jump and earning a snort from Malfoy. Hermione caught the brunet's grey eyes for a split second before looking away quickly.

"Not if it eats Scabbers."

"_He_ won't," she replied defensively.

Another awkward silence followed.

"So, Harry… you blew up your aunt?" asked Hermione casually, turning to look at the boy.

"Er–yes."

Another awkward silence.

"So, Professor Lupin… is he the new DADA teacher?"

"Probably," answered Draco, "You know, the position's been cursed for the longest time."

Hermione glanced up at him and they locked eyes.

"I know that."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and Ron coughed as the tension rose in the compartment.

Tearing her eyes away from Draco's, the blonde once again concentrated on petting Crookshanks who was now napping in her lap.

As the silence wore on, Hermione became restless. Glancing up at the other three every so often, she began to feel like she was going to explode.

"Could someone _please_ say something?" she finally snapped, "The silence is killing me."

"Then go back to your compartment."

"_Ron_!" snarled Harry and Draco in unison.

The redhead quieted.

Hermione's eyes flashed to Draco's again before quickly looking away once more.

_This is getting ridiculous._

Staring down at Crookshanks, the blonde clenched her hands and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

Hermione looked up so quickly, she was surprised her neck didn't snap.

"Wait, _you're_ sorry?"

"Wait, _you're_ sorry?"

Pausing for only a moment, they both spoke again.

"What are you sorry for?"

"What are you sorry for?"

Relief spread through Hermione's body, and she smiled before laughing.

"Hold on, are you _apologizing_?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes," replied Draco grudgingly, his grey eyes flashing to hers. "Perhaps I shouldn't–"

"No, I swear, I'm not making fun of you," Hermione grinned, "I'm just surprised, is all. I thought you never apologized."

The brunet shrugged before smirking lightly.

"I guess I've never genuinely felt bad before."

The train came to a shuddering halt just as the blonde was about to reply. Distant thuds and bangs were heard as luggage toppled out of their racks before the lights all went out and darkness enveloped the train.

"What's going on?" asked Ron.

"Merlin, get off my foot!" snapped Draco from somewhere in front of Hermione.

"We can't have reached yet… D'you think we've broken down?" asked Harry from the blonde's right.

Hermione swallowed as fear crept up her spine. Her head turned automatically to the compartment doors right next to her as she found her wand.

_Just in case._

She jumped as a squeaking noise was heard, waking Crookshanks. Turning to look at the window, she could barely make out Ron's figure as he stared out into the dark, rainy sky.

"There's something moving out there," he breathed, frowning, "I think people are coming aboard…"

The hairs on Hermione's neck stood on end as she turned to stare apprehensively at the door.

Without warning, they opened suddenly and the blonde let out an involuntary scream.

"Sorry, Hermione, sorry!" squeaked a familiar voice as someone tripped over her legs.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione–"

"Shut up, will you–"

"Merlin, _Neville_! Is that you?" she asked, relief spreading over her body, "You gave me a bloody fright, you know that?"

"Sorry–ow–I just, sorry–Harry, is that y–_OW_!"

"Damn it, Neville! Not on my foot!"

"S-Sorry Draco."

"Neville, don't sit on me! SIT _NEXT_ TO ME!" cried Ron.

Shuffling was heard and then a sigh of relief.

"Ron, was that you yelling?" asked a new voice.

"_Ginny_?" asked Hermione and Ron simultaneously.

"I was searching for Ron–"

"Come in, then," said Hermione quickly, pulling the younger girl in and closing the compartment door and pulling the blinds.

"Not on me! _Don't sit on me_!" exclaimed Harry, panicked.

More shuffling was heard and then a muffled _oof_.

"Who is this? Am… am I sitting on someone?" asked Ginny tentatively.

"_Get off me, Weaselette_," snapped Draco, his voice a bit muffled, "I can barely breathe with your hair in my face and mouth–"

"I'm sorry, Draco!"

"Hey!" yelled Ron, "That's my _sister_ you're talking to–"

"_Quiet_."

It seemed Professor Lupin finally woke up.

"Stay where you are, all of you," he warned, his voice low and hoarse before he lit up his wand, illuminating the compartment.

He was about to make his way to the door when it slowly opened by itself.

The distinct feeling of despair and sadness washed over Hermione, and she slowly hugged Crookshanks closer as the hooded figure that towered to the ceiling entered. Catching sight of a scabbed, nasty, slimy hand, Hermione fought down a whimper before moving closer to Harry.

Barely catching sight of its hole-like mouth as it took in a deep, rattling breath, she slumped against the seat. Coldness seeped into her bones and flew through her veins. It felt like ice was in her heart – no, in her very _soul_ – and, instinctively, she moved her hand to hold onto Harry's – she knew he would get the worst of it.

Hermione felt his hand go slack just as Lupin's Patronus materialized and sent the Dementor hurtling out of their compartment.

* * *

**Lots of hugs and cookies to: **_RingoHime, fanfictionswhore, Somnus Verus, grubandmagic, Cristal90, minigirl2428, Wallart plus Finx equals war, SasoriHime05, Bianca the crazy slytherin, flaming-twilight, Subtle Resplendency, brighteyes2889, BW-Photography, Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini, Calimocho, BowArrows, warrior-of-water, LittleMissHugALot, Twizard2013, JuliaLestrange, ShinigamiRae, Guest, panchat, Laura-Ella, Guest (I already have the plot written out, love! You'll just have to wait and see what happens), Hair Like Starlight, Eltanin Rose, Zann Steves, Like A Clockwork Orange, SashaStorm97, DestinyOrton, nathaliie, champylin, princesspay10. _This is me, crying from happiness. :''') Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews. Just to let you all know - definitely expect an update this Friday. I have the next chapter all typed up. Just finished it today. Can you tell how excited I am? WOO!

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	17. Fly Away

**Chapter 17 – Fly Away**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Hogwarts – 09/01/1993**_

"Potter! Malfoy! I want to see you both!"

Hermione and Harry turned around quickly at the mention of their names. Professor McGonagall was calling them over the heads of the students in the large crowd, her face as stern as ever.

"There's no need to look so worried – I just want a word in my office," she said before her eyes flickered over to Draco and Ron. "Move along there, Weasley and Granger."

A mixture of relief and happiness spread through Hermione's veins as McGonagall led them to her office.

_I can't wait to get my hands on that Time-Turner…_

Finally reaching the office, McGonagall gestured to the two seats in front of her desk before getting right to business.

"Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were ill on the train, Potter."

Before Harry could say anything, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey came bustling in.

Hermione held back a small smile as Harry's face turned red.

"I'm fine," he said resolutely, "I don't need anything–"

"Oh, it's you, is it?" asked Madam Pomfrey, ignoring his words and bending down to inspect him. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"

"It was a Dementor, Poppy," interrupted McGonagall.

The nurse turned to exchange a dark look with McGonagall before clucking disapprovingly.

"Setting Dementors around a school," she murmured, pushing back Harry's hair and feeling his forehead. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Hmm, yes… he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate–"

"I'm not delicate!" cut in Harry petulantly.

Hermione suppressed a snigger.

"Of course you're not, dearie."

"Does he need bed rest?" asked McGonagall crisply, "Should he spend the night in the hospital wing?"

"I AM _FINE_!" yelled Harry, jumping out of his seat angrily.

"Perhaps some chocolate–"

"I've already had some. Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."

"Are you _sure_ you feel all right, Potter?" asked McGonagall, eyeing him sharply.

"_Yes_."

"Very well," sighed McGonagall, relenting. "Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Malfoy about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."

Nodding mutely, the raven-haired boy left the office with Madam Pomfrey. As the door swung shut with a dull _thud_, Professor McGonagall turned to look at the blonde shrewdly.

"Miss Malfoy, I understand your Head of House, Professor Snape, should be talking to you about this, but since you were with Potter, I decided to ask you myself. Are you _positive_ you will be able to keep up with the amount of coursework you've signed up for this year?"

"_Yes_, Professor," she replied, smiling.

This was it.

"Very well. All I needed was your reassurance. As you well know, many of these classes do clash and, due to this, extra measures had to be taken to provide you with the courses you desired. Do you know what a Time-Turner is, Miss Malfoy?"

* * *

_**Divination Classroom – 09/02/1993**_

"Where is she?" whispered Ron, frowning as he looked around the classroom. "I–"

Weasel broke off immediately as a soft, mystical voice came from the shadows.

"Welcome. How nice to see you all in the physical world at last."

Draco snorted.

_Welcome to hell._

Perhaps he should have taken a cue from Hermione and ducked out of this class. He should have taken something more productive. As Trelawney came into the light, her eyes magnified by her glasses and shawls and beads draped around her body and neck, Draco fought to keep his composure. The woman looked like a fucking _drugged_ _insect_.

"Sit, my children, _sit_," she gestured dramatically around the room to the chairs.

Draco coughed awkwardly to cover up a laugh as he sat down. Ron was watching the woman with trepidation; Harry with a mixture of boredom and confusion. The brunet stared resolutely at the table. _He would not laugh._

"Welcome to Divination," she began, her voice wavering purposefully as she tried to create an air of intrigue or mystery.

It was _not_ working.

"My name is Professor Trelawney. You may or may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Complete silence.

"So… you have chosen to study Divination, the _most_ difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can only take you so far in this field…"

Ron sent Harry and Draco weird looks and the brunet tried, once again, to hide a loud laugh. He was barely successful. Trelawney shot him a look of dislike. Enduring this class the first time was terrible enough. Now, he had to endure it for a _second_ time.

_Merlin help me._

* * *

_**Hagrid's Hut**_

"C'mon now! Get a move on!" yelled out Hagrid gruffly.

Draco suppressed a sigh. This was going to be another one of _those_ classes and, sadly enough, he couldn't even say anything rude…

"Got a real treat for yeh today!" continued Hagrid as the class approached. "Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

The group followed Hagrid around the edge of the Forbidden Forest until they came to an empty paddock.

"Now, firs' thing ye'll want ter do is open yer books–"

"How?"

"Eh?" asked Hagrid, confused.

"_How_," repeated Blaise Zabini slowly, enunciating each letter carefully, "do we open our books?"

Draco suppressed a snigger as Hermione stomped on Blaise's foot.

Ignoring her, the dark-skinned Slytherin, for good measure, took out his book. It was sealed shut with a belt.

"Hasn'… hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" asked Hagrid, crestfallen.

Everyone shook their heads.

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," instructed Hagrid, as though it was one of the most obvious things in the world. "Look–"

Taking Weasel's book, he quickly stroked the spine just as it was about to chew on his arm. The book immediately relaxed and let out a little sigh of contentment before opening.

"Oh, we were supposed to _stroke_ them?" snapped Blaise coldly, "How simple, how easy, how _obvious_."

"I thought it was funny…" said Hagrid, looking at the class uncertainly.

"What a wonderful sense of humor you have. I completely agree," grumbled Zabini angrily, "Giving us books that want to eat our hands off… how absolutely _lovely_."

"Shut up, Blaise."

"Shut up, Zabini."

Both Hermione and Harry said the words simultaneously and quietly, however, it was Granger's face that looked the most frightening and properly shut him up.

Hagrid nodded.

"Alrigh', well, yeh've got yer books… now I need ter get the creatures… alrigh', yeah, I'll go get them. Hang on…"

Hagrid walked away as Blaise snorted unappreciatively. That earned him an angry glance from Harry and harsh elbow-to-rib contact courtesy of Granger. Draco smirked as Zabini clutched his injured chest in pain. If nothing, at least this class was humorous, but thankfully, not in the depressing way that Divination was.

Suddenly, Lavender Brown screeched and pointed at something in the distance. Draco jumped and focused on the paddock just as a dozen of the hateful Hippogriffs trotted into view. The brunet automatically took a step back, remembering his last encounter with the bloody chickens. No way was he going through _that_ again.

Everyone followed his lead except Hermione, Ron, and Harry.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid, "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Draco swallowed uneasily as memories of the last time he had this very lesson flashed through his mind.

_Bloody fucking chickens._

Hermione caught his eye at that very moment and sent him a smug, little smile. Making sure no one else was watching, he quickly flipped her off.

After speaking a bit more about the Hippogriffs, Hagrid finally rubbed his hands together and looked around the class.

"Who wants ter go first?"

When no one made a move, Harry finally sighed before volunteering.

There was a moment of silence before Parvati and Lavender whispered, "Oooh, Harry, remember your tea leaves!"

Rolling his eyes at the mention of their disastrous Divination lesson earlier in the day, Draco joined Ron and Hermione in sending the two irritated looks. Harry ignored the bints before cautiously entering the paddock.

Draco felt a wave of jealousy as Potter elicited a bow from the creature before petting it and finally flying off into the sky. He'd felt the same sort of jealousy before, but it was even worse now considering he wasn't as much of an arrogant, little prick as he used to be. He respected the stupid creatures. It might have taken a trip to the hospital wing and an exaggerated re-telling of his injuries to elicit that reaction from him, but it still counted. He respected Buckbeak enough after that day… just not enough to keep his mouth shut about the incident and save it from execution. At that time, he felt it was completely justified. Only now did he realize it was truly his fault that he got hurt in the first place.

It wasn't too long until Potter finally came back and the rest of the class, motivated by the raven-haired boy's encounter, cautiously walked into the paddock and interacted with the creatures.

Draco was with Ron as they faced a chestnut-colored Hippogriff with steely, amber eyes. Swallowing loudly, Ron gave the brunet a shaky smile before motioning for him to go first. Rolling his eyes, Draco shoved his fear to the back of his mind and bowed. Looking up from under his lashes, he saw the bird eye him sharply for a moment before doing the same.

Walking slowly, his hand outstretched in a non-threatening way, Draco made his way over to the Hippogriff. Grimacing slightly, he placed his hand on its beak. Heaving a sigh of relief when it didn't automatically bite his hand off, he pet it a few times – it actually seemed to _like _him – before getting a sudden idea.

He turned to the Hipprogriff's side and, knowing instinctively what he wanted, the creature lowered itself. Getting a rush of adrenaline, the brunet placed his foot right on the wing joint like Harry had before quickly hoisting himself onto the Hippogriff's back. It let out a loud squawk before standing up and ruffling its feathers. Draco inhaled sharply in surprise. He refused to scream in front of these people. By this time, most everyone was watching him with awe except Hermione.

She was staring at him in an 'I-told-you-so' way. He returned her gaze with his own 'shut-the-fuck-up' face, before kicking the sides of his feet into the Hippogriff's flank.

_I'll show her._

As the petty rivalry they used to have when they were younger took over him – the insatiable need to best Granger, _the mud-blood_, in everything – he faced ahead. His view was blocked by a bunch of the Hippogriff's feathers. Clinging to its neck for dear life as he felt its muscles bunch, Draco looked down and watched – nearly yelling out in surprise – as the bird took off, the ground becoming smaller and smaller as they rose quickly into the air.

_Holy shit._

Now he knew what he'd been missing. The view was absolutely _breathtaking_ and, in that very moment, Draco felt pure happiness for the first time in years.

* * *

Hermione watched in amusement and surprise as Malfoy soared up and into the air. Even Hagrid was a bit shocked by his audacity, but, nonetheless, seemed quite pleased that another one of his students had taken to the creatures. Hearing Draco let out a quick whoop in the distance, she rolled her eyes and let out an airy laugh along with a few others in the class.

"Bloody idiots, all of these creatures!" hissed Blaise, staring hatefully at the animal. "It'll let a bloody _mud-blood_ ride it, but when a pure-blood requests permission, it refuses to lower–"

Hermione threw her hand over Blaise's mouth just as the Hippogriff in front of them looked at them quickly, its eyes steely.

"Blaise! Get out of the–"

Breaking off to let out a gasp, Hermione tried to drag her idiotic friend out of the way but to no avail. In a flash, the creature had Blaise on the ground, groaning, as blood rushed from three deep cuts in his chest.

"BLAISE!"

Dropping down to take a look at the wound frenetically, Hermione barely registered that she was about to be attacked as well. Looking up at the last moment, she let out a blood curdling scream and frantically moved away as she caught the Hippogriff rearing up to lash out again. Thankfully, Hagrid barely stopped the creature from hurting her.

"Hagrid, we have to take him to the hospital! _Merlin_–"

Pansy was screeching incoherent hate – joined by many other Slytherins – as Hagrid pulled Blaise into his arms and carried him out of the paddock quickly, Hermione on his heels.

_The wound was worse._

_The wound was __**worse**__._

It was _significantly_ worse than what Draco had in their third year, and this time, she actually felt terror at the idea that Blaise might–

_No, you will __**not**__ think like that, Hermione, _she scolded herself inwardly as her vision blurred with tears, _Blaise will be fine. The daft idiot has to be._

* * *

_**Room of Requirement **_

Draco guffawed loudly. Gods, this was _rich_.

_I guess Zabini and I are more alike than I initially thought._

This explained why everyone, save Harry and Weasel King, was noticeably absent when he finally returned from his flight on the Hippogriff.

"It's not funny, Draco," bit out Hermione stiffly. "He almost _died_."

"Are you kidding me? Of _course_ this is bloody funny! He did exactly what _I_ did in our third year – except, of course, his wound is worse, but still... this is one of the funniest things I've heard all day and I've sat through fucking _Divination_!"

Hermione shuddered.

"That class was _terrible_. It's all a bunch of rubbish, if you ask me."

"No one has to ask you – you're very vocal on your views," replied Draco, smirking.

"Shut up."

"So, Granger… what's the plan this year? Quidditch or no Quidditch?"

Rolling her eyes at his abrupt change of subject, she glared at him.

"That's not funny. You know I hate flying."

"I'm beginning to doubt that now, you know," he replied, leaning forward so his elbows were resting firmly on his knees. "After that lovely save of yours last year, I highly doubt Flint would allow you to just scamper off."

Hermione shrugged.

"I just told Lucius I didn't want to do it anymore – he still feels terrible about my almost-death, so he accepted it easily. Besides, Oberon has a big enough obsession with the sport for both of us. He's trying out next year, I believe."

Draco lifted an eyebrow.

"Don't expect my father to be a push-over for much longer."

"I highly doubt he'll forgive himself _or_ move on. Narcissa isn't allowing him to."

"Lovely woman, my mother."

"Oh yes."

Turning his head away from Hermione, who was nestled into the arm chair opposite him, the brunet stared into the flames in the fireplace.

Thinking about his parents, Draco wondered whether Narcissa _would_ ever forgive Lucius for this. She had always been so protective of him, especially after he was given the assignment to kill Dumbledore in his sixth year. This situation was even worse. Not only had Hermione almost died, but she had been saved by Boy Wonder. Draco could just imagine the horror on her face. Not only this, but the brunet also wondered what having a younger brother would be like – how it might have changed the course of his own fate if he had one in his actual life. And, above all, he wondered whether he'd go home anytime soon. Sighing, he turned away from the flames and caught Hermione's eyes.

"So… what's the plan this year? Of course, assuming that you won't _lie_ the entire time," he added snarkily, unable to help himself.

"I _know_ that what I did was wrong and I've already promised to tell you the truth, Draco. Merlin! Trust me, would you? We've already addressed this!" she replied loudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I have no reason to," he snapped.

"Then what do you want me to do?" she hissed, "Tattoo it on my bloody arm? Knife it in like your lovely aunt did my heritage those years ago?"

Draco's eyes turned darker as he sneered.

"Don't bring that psychotic woman into this conversation – you're being way too bloody overdramatic. I can accept your apology, yes, but I want you to prove it."

"Well then," she fell back into her seat, "Look at this."

Draco's eyes widened comically as she removed her robe and sweater.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?!"

"Oh shut up, I'm not giving you a bloody striptease, you prat."

"Then put your clothes back on!"

"I'm showing you _this_, idiot."

Digging her hand into her shirt – which only made Draco look away awkwardly – she pulled out a shiny, golden necklace with a circular pendant. Inside the pendant was an hourglass.

_A Time-Turner._

The brunet's mouth dropped.

"This is how you fucking did it, isn't it?"

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific."

"Our third year. I heard from my father that Buckbrat disappeared and the Oaf wasn't behind it–"

"_Buckbeak_ and _Hagrid_, you mean."

"–always been curious. I had a feeling you three were behind it, but I'd never guessed you used a Time-Turner to accomplish it."

"How else do you think we were able to help Sirius escape _and_ save Buckbeak?" Hermione stared at him in a quizzical way, as if using a Time-Turner was the only obvious solution. "It's only possible if you're in two places at once."

"You freed Sirius Black," deadpanned the brunet.

She nodded slowly.

"Why does this not surprise me," he muttered under his breath. "Let me guess," continued Draco sardonically, "We're basically doing the same thing this year, am I correct?"

Hermione placed the Time-Turner back under her Oxford shirt – Draco tried exceptionally hard to keep his eyes on her face for fear of her retaliation – before nodding again.

"Of course. However, we're changing one thing this year."

The brunet rose an eyebrow lazily, silently urging her to continue.

"This year, Pettigrew isn't getting away."

* * *

**Hugs and kisses to:**_ flaming-twilight, Are101, Subtle Resplendency, kaycross1184, fanfictionswhore, iceflight12787, anidot90, Zann Steves, minigrl2428, SasoriHime05, Bianca the crazy slytherin, Hair Like Starlight, Claudie, brighteyes2889, RingoHime, Twizard2013, LiterarySparrow, mh21, BelleBelles, Somnus Verus, Calimocho, nathaliie, Laura-Ella, Untamed Goddess, Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini, BW-Photography, Like A Clockwork Orange, JuliaLestrange, SashaStorm97, jkl, SageQ, grubandmagic, LittleMissHugALot._ Thank you all so much for your lovely compliments. I'm glad all of you are still enjoying it :) And, as promised, I updated today... WOO! I hope everyone has a lovely weekend and enjoyed the update. Expect another one next weekend!

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	18. Cold Hearted

**Chapter 18 – Cold Hearted**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Slytherin Common Room – 09/19/1993**_

"This is your fault, isn't it?" asked Hermione loudly, throwing the letter down in front of Blaise harshly.

The blonde felt numerous heads turn in her direction, but she was too furious to care at this point. The only thing she was currently focused on was the boy in front of her and trying to look like she was partially in-control of her emotions. That had always been one of the hardest things for her to do.

The dark-skinned Slytherin stopped whatever idiotic conversation he was having with his friends to glance at her and smile. He had the nerve to _smile_.

"Hey, Hermione."

"Are you going to answer or not?" she gritted her teeth, her eyes blazing. "You can't just do this, Blaise! He's an innocent creature–"

"_Innocent_?!"

His demeanor changed instantly. His dark eyes grew cold and a sneer wound its way onto his face. She found herself hating it. She hated how ugly it looked on his handsome face and how commonplace it had become.

"Hermione, you can't be serious."

"Yes, I ca–DO YOU _MIND_?" she roared wildly, turning to stare at his friends incredulously, "I'M _TRYING_ TO HAVE A CONVERSATION HERE AND I'D APPRECIATE IT IF YOU'D ALL GIVE US SOME PRIVACY!"

The idiots glanced at one another and moved away slightly, their eyes wide with fright, before composing themselves. Shrugging noncommittally and trying to appear unfazed at her crazed yelling, they walked out of the common room. Feeling their backwards glances, Hermione turned and glared heatedly at them. They ran.

"You can't just order them away–" started Blaise disbelievingly as he watched the door shut behind them.

"Apparently, I can," she snapped, grabbing the letter and waving it in his face. "We have better things to discuss, however, other than your pathetic friends."

"_Right_," replied Blaise patronizingly as he crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione's temper flared. "Let's talk about the fact that you're _losing it_ because of something as _idiotic_ as that stupid hippogriff."

"Don't talk down to me, Blaise, and it's not stupid. It's a creature that you obviously angered! It was self-defense–"

"_So is this_!" he hissed, throwing his arms up in the air. "I'm protecting other wizards and witches from that bloodthirsty creature! And self-defense from _what_?! My _words_?!"

Pausing momentarily to shoot her a glance that clearly conveyed how insane he thought she was, he continued.

"Not only that, I'm _saving_ them! You can't have evil hippogriffs running around! Other wizards like your father would execute them, too!"

"_Excuse_ me?" Hermione replied in amazement, her voice getting shrill. "You think this is _saving_ the creatures? Are you barking?! Writing a letter to my father about the fact that you and I almost died because, and I quote, the creature was _'clearly out to kill us for no reason'_ is your definition of _saving_ the species?! Asking him to kill the hippogriff?! Blaise, please… you're smarter than this. Just because your pride was wounded–"

"My pride? More like my body!_ I almost_ _died, Hermione_!" he exploded, "And, despite this, you care more about that bloody animal than you do _me_!"

That was _not_ true. That was _so_ not true. She'd spent how many days in the hospital wing worried to death? Oh, right, _too many to count_. And it was all over something they could have avoided _completely_.

Hermione paused, suddenly realizing everyone still in the common room was staring.

"There's nothing to see here!" she cried, her eyes flickering from face to face. "Go do your homework or something else productive!"

Immediately, the people started moving not only their bodies but their mouths. Whispers flew through the room and out the door as people left, glancing at them all the while. The former-Gryffindor thanked Merlin Oberon wasn't here to see this – her idiot of a brother would have probably taken _pictures_. He loved fights, especially when it was between her and Blaise.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, and running a hand through her smooth, blonde hair, the Slytherin turned to face Blaise again. He was staring at her in disbelief, and despite how hard he might have tried to hide it, she could tell he was hurt.

"Blaise," she sighed, collapsing on the closest couch, "that's not true and you know it. I was frightened for you, but honestly? You know this is your fault. If you had just kept your mouth shut–"

"Perhaps. But I didn't, did I? Besides, even if I wanted to change it, your father's already gotten everything sorted out. This…" he paused, frowning, as if trying to find the proper words to say. "This shouldn't be a big deal. Why are you even picking a fight about this? Haven't we fought enough?"

Letting out a harsh breath, Hermione stared at him for a moment before looking away. It wasn't like she could bloody tell him that this was yet _another_ thing she had to deal with this year, now could she? The blonde had been banking on the fact that Draco wouldn't go and do the same stupid thing he did their original third year – provoke Buckbeak. Yet, somehow, the same event had occurred, only with Blaise. How bloody ironic was _that_? It was like he was taking Malfoy's place…

Shaking away her thoughts, Hermione focused on the Slytherin in front of her. What was she supposed to say? _'Oh, I'm actually not from here, nor am I Lucius and Narcissa's daughter. I'm actually a muggle-born from another dimension and don't want this hippogriff to be executed because I love animals and it'll be a lot easier to save Sirius Black – you know, the one that's just broken out of Azkaban and is in the papers, but don't worry, he's not a mass murderer – without having to worry about the life of a hippogriff as well.'_

_How about __**no**_, Hermione thought, scowling.

Blaise sent her a weird, yet expectant, look. Clenching her hands, she resolved to do something she'd always found so hard when it came to the things she cared most about – _let go_.

"Just forget it. We shouldn't fight over this," she muttered.

Surprise flashed over Blaise's features for a moment before he composed himself and nodded.

"_Now_ you're right."

A satisfied smirk settled on her friend's face. She wanted to slap it off.

Arching an eyebrow, she looked him in the eye.

"Just realize that I _am_ condoning this behavior. However, I'd rather not get into another fight so soon after the last. This better not happen again."

The dark-skinned Slytherin just rolled his eyes and waved her off before heading to the door of the common room.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go find my friends… you know… the ones you _frightened away with your shrieking and glaring_."

Choosing not to grace that comment with an answer, she just huffed and relaxed into the couch before a sudden question wormed its way into her mind.

"Blaise!"

She shot up from the couch and turned towards the common room door. He had paused, his hand on the doorknob.

"Yes?"

"I… I just have one question," Hermione said, frowning slightly. "Why _my_ father? What about your step-father? I thought you said you two got on well in Italy…"

The blonde trailed off as Blaise's expression changed – he swallowed and seemed almost… _nervous_.

"That's not… uh… I have to go," he muttered quickly.

"But–"

In one swift move, he yanked open the door and disappeared through it before she could say another word. It shut behind him with a definitive _clang_ and the blonde found herself alone in the Common Room, the only sound the crackling of fire from the fireplace.

_What a lovely birthday this has been_, Hermione thought to herself, her head falling into her hands.

* * *

_**Great Hall – 10/31/1993**_

Weeks had passed and Sirius Black sightings had been reported like usual. Hermione reveled in the news. All was going according to plan. Even more exciting had been today's encounter with the Azkaban escapee. She'd been counting down to this very day for a few months now and was pleased that all had gone properly – he had successfully infiltrated Hogwarts and mentally scarred the Fat Lady. Hermione would be lying if she said it was a shame. The Fat Lady was a _dreadful_ singer and far too curious and gossipy for her liking, especially considering the fact that she was a _portrait_.

Unable to sleep properly in the Great Hall, the blonde was awake and staring at the back of Blaise's head. Good thing he didn't snore like Ron, who she could barely hear – thank Merlin, might she add – since he was at the opposite end of the Hall. Tilting her head back slightly and looking up, she could barely see Harry, Draco, and the redhead as they slept. Well, as the _latter two_ slept. She knew Harry well enough to know he was in his own, little world worrying about Sirius and what his presence here in the castle meant for him.

Sighing, Hermione turned restlessly to her other side so she was facing the doors of the Great Hall. The former-Gryffindor wished there was some way she could ease Harry's mind. Sirius was not a bad person, and if she could get that message through to Harry – that he may not be responsible for what happened to his parents all those years ago – perhaps their mission to set Black free at the end of this year would go more smoothly.

Satisfied, the blonde finally closed her eyes and slowly shut down all thought in relation to this year. She was much too tired to lose a night's worth of sleep over mere excitement. During the War, she'd come to find sleep's true value – it was priceless. Concentrating on her breathing and clearing her mind, Hermione allowed the soft steps of the teachers to eventually lull her into a deep sleep.

* * *

_**Hospital Wing – 11/07/1993**_

"Harry? Are you alright?"

The blonde watched with trepidation – like most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, as well – as Harry opened his eyes slowly.

After a moment, he shot up from bed and looked at them all wildly. A few people jumped.

"The match, what happened? Did we win?"

Hermione exchanged looks with Draco before turning and grimacing at Harry. The excitement on his face slowly morphed into realization.

"We… we didn't _lose_, did we?" he asked quietly, his eyes flickering from hers to the others settled around his bedside.

"Diggory got the snitch," said George, "He didn't realize you had fallen. When he saw you, he tried to call it off – wanted a rematch. It was fair and square, though. Even Wood agreed they'd won."

"Where is Wood?" frowned Harry, looking around at everyone again, trying to find him.

"Been in the showers for a long while, mate," commented Ron, "I think he's trying to drown himself."

Groaning, the raven-haired boy threw his head in his hands and gripped his hair savagely.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

"Well, there has to be one time you didn't get it, Harry. I mean, you've caught it _every single time_–" said George meaningfully.

"Besides, it's not over yet," interjected Fred, nodding slightly, "We lost by a hundred points, right? So, if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin–"

At that moment, Madame Pomfrey bustled over, her face stern.

"Look at the dear boy!" she cried, gesturing to Harry who was staring at the twins, crestfallen. "Would you all leave him in peace?"

"Don't beat yourself up, Harry," reassured Fred and George simultaneously, "You're still the best Seeker we've ever had."

Hermione, Draco, and Ron moved closer to Harry, who was slumped against the headboard of the bed dejectedly.

"If it helps any…" started Draco slowly, "Dumbledore looked like he was about to kill someone. Bloody angry, he was. Cast off the Dementors with the Patronus charm before sending you here on a stretcher. Everyone thought you had died, but, I mean, you're Harry Potter. You never die. So, I was completely certain–"

Hermione shot him a dirty look, which he reciprocated, before closing his mouth.

Harry said nothing. He sat on the bed and stared unseeingly at the ceiling.

"… Harry?" ventured Ron, "Are… are you alright?"

"Harry?" Hermione asked, frowning slightly. Huffing, she got up and leaned over his form. "Earth to Potter!" she cried loudly, snapping her fingers in front of his face. That startled him and he looked at all of them quickly before asking about his broom.

Deciding to not be the bearer of bad news, Hermione allowed Draco to tell him what happened. She winced at his devastated expression before slowly grabbing the bag with the remnants of his broom. Placing it gently on his bed, she gave him what she hoped looked like a hopeful smile.

"I'm positive you'll get a new one soon, Harry," she whispered, placing her hand over his reassuringly.

* * *

_**Library – 11/12/1993**_

"What's a hinkypunk again?" asked Ron, frowning, as he practically grabbed Hermione's DADA book.

"Excuse me, Ronald," she snapped, snatching it back from him and giving him a severe look. "If you want my book, all you have to do is _ask_. We're not children."

The redhead turned to look at Harry, who said nothing, before turning to Draco, exasperated. The brunet just put up his hands in a surrendering gesture.

"Hermione's right, Ron. You can't just go around grabbing books."

Weasel spluttered incomprehensibly as Hermione settled in her seat, looking smug. Finally accepting the inevitable, the redhead, slumping, glanced at her before sighing. Granger was purposefully ignoring him.

"Hermione, may I have your book?" he muttered childishly.

Harry glanced up from his parchment, his emerald eyes flickering between the two as he fought to stop himself from smiling. Draco, on the other hand, sat back lazily and grinned.

"Of course," she replied, sniffing, before handing it over.

* * *

_**An hour later…**_

"Ron, _give me my book_."

"You said I could have it!"

"Not to keep it!" she cried, staring at him incredulously, "I meant for you to have it to finish the essay for DADA this one time!"

"But I–"

"It's not my problem if you can't organize your possessions, Ronald," she snapped, trying to tug it out of his hands.

Draco exchanged a bored look with Harry. This was becoming ridiculous.

"Ron, just give her the book. We're in a library, for Merlin's sake," drawled Draco, "We can just go and find it."

"But–"

Letting it go, the redhead mumbled something under his breath before getting up from the table and staring at Draco.

There was an awkward moment of silence before Draco slowly looked up from his almost-finished essay, an irritated expression on his face.

"Yes?"

"Well c'mon," he muttered, "I can't find it on my own."

"You can't find books in a library, Ron?" exclaimed Draco, his mouth dropping as Harry sniggered into his book. A loud '_shh_' was heard from Madame Pince. Everyone ignored it.

The brunet scowled.

"You owe me a bag of candy from Honeydukes for this, Ron," he snapped.

Sighing, the redhead nodded.

"Whatever you want, Granger. Whatever you want, just please, don't send me looking for it alone–"

"Let's go," Draco sighed, shaking his head in disbelief as he got up from his seat at the table.

He'd always assumed – no, he'd always _known_ – that Ron was not the brightest man in the world, however, not being able to navigate a library? That was a new – undoubtedly _hilarious_ – low.

* * *

"…Harry…" started Hermione slowly, as Ron and Draco slowly disappeared into the back of the library, "Have…"

Pausing, the blonde watched as the boy in question lifted his head from his essay, listening.

"Have I…" he trailed off, prompting her to continue.

Chickening out, she quickly changed the subject.

"Er–have you finished the essay yet? I know you wanted me to look over it and I've been done for _ages_–"

"I'm just having problems with the ending…" he frowned, staring hard at the parchment as if waiting for the answers to jump out at him.

Hermione bit her lip.

"Any ideas, Hermione?" he looked up questioningly.

Nodding quickly, she shoved her paper over.

"No copying. Just for ideas, _right_?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded once, his face clearing.

"Thanks, Hermione. You're a life saver."

The blonde sighed. How many times had she heard _that_ statement… Perhaps they should put it on her tombstone. Hermione Granger – loving mother, daughter, friend, wife, and life saver. Her lips quirked upward at the thought.

Glancing at Harry once more as he scribbled onto his paper – his penmanship was borderline atrocious – her ghost of a smile vanished.

"How do you feel about Sirius Black?" she blurted out.

Hermione cringed at the bluntness of that statement.

Harry stopped writing immediately and looked up.

"Uh… he's a mass murderer, Hermione," he replied, "How do you _think_ I feel about him?"

"I… uh… Harry… I–I know what he did, you know, to your parents–" she started slowly.

She paused as his face hardened.

"But… um… perhaps he wasn't the one… uh… behind… it?"

He frowned at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously, placing his quill on the table and straightening to look at her properly.

"Well… what if he was framed?"

"Why are you defending him, Hermione?" he countered, even more suspiciously.

"I'm not _technically_–"

"What do you know that I don't?"

Put on the spot, the blonde stared at him, at a loss for words. How much should she give away? Hermione decided to take a small risk.

"Harry… he's your Godfather."

She watched as he froze and his green eyes widened in disbelief.

_Perhaps it's a bit too soon…_

"_What_? That's impossible–"

"It's not," Hermione said quickly, looking around the library. Not wanting anyone to hear their conversation, she stood up and walked over to a quiet, deserted part of the library, Harry right on her heels.

When she was positive they were alone and wouldn't be overheard, she turned around.

"Harry, he was close friends with your parents – your father in particular. After they died, you should have been living with him. Unfortunately, he was placed in Azkaban and couldn't take custody of you. That's why you were handed over to the Dursleys."

He stared at her for a few moments in shock before clenching his jaw, his eyes filling with rage.

"He was their friend… close enough to be named my Godfather… and he betrayed them? To _Voldemort_?!" he bellowed.

"Harry, be quiet!" she hissed before grabbing her wand and muttering a quick _Muffliato_. "That's not true! No matter what you've been told… that's _not_ the truth. Everyone has it wrong!"

"Then why don't you enlighten me, Hermione?" he yelled angrily, his emerald eyes filled with fury. "How do you know more about this than _I_ do?"

"I… I'm related to him, Harry. He's basically my cousin. My mother, Narcissa, used to be part of the Black family before she married my father. I've… um… heard things," she improvised quickly, hoping to sound believable, "from former-Death Eaters. He isn't the one at fault – Peter Pettigrew is. He's the one who sold your parents to Voldemort."

"_What_? Peter Pettigrew? Who is he?" he frowned.

"An old friend of your father's. He knew your parents' location when Voldemort got a hold of him. He willingly betrayed them. When Sirius found out, he went after him, but was unable to finish him off for doing what he did. And Pettigrew, not wanting to get in trouble, successfully framed him and escaped."

Harry's jaw dropped, disbelief written on his face.

"You can't be serious, Hermione. Sirius was the one behind it. Why else would he break into Hogwarts? He's trying to _kill_ me, trying to finish off what Voldemort couldn't–"

"No, Harry! He wasn't, you _have_ to believe me!" she replied desperately, blocking his path when he tried to leave.

"Then why is he here, Hermione? Why did he escape Azkaban?" he shot back.

"He's trying to find Pettigrew," she whispered, grabbing his arm when he tried to walk away again. "Believe me, I _know_ he is. Harry…" she looked him in the eyes, "have I ever lied to you before about anything? Why would I start now? This is the truth. You have to believe me. Sirius is _innocent_."

He looked into her eyes, as if searching for something, before relaxing slightly.

"Then why is he–"

"Harry? Hermi–oh."

The two looked up immediately to find Draco frowning at them and Ron watching the two curiously.

"Er–hey," they replied in unison.

Draco's eyes flickered from Hermione's to her hand. Following his lead, the blonde realized she still had the raven-haired boy in a death grip.

"Sorry, Harry," she muttered, releasing him instantly.

"Thanks," he mumbled, rubbing his arm quickly, "I was beginning to lose feeling."

Hermione smiled apologetically.

"What are you guys doing here?" asked Ron suspiciously, his eyes darting between the two.

Harry sighed before glancing at Hermione, who nodded encouragingly.

"Ron… Draco… Hermione just told me something that I reckon you two should to hear…"

* * *

_**Slytherin Common Room – 11/13/1993 **_

Blaise had been keeping his mouth shut for entirely too long now. Hermione was dying with curiosity. Why had Blaise told Lucius and not his own step-father? Something else was going on, especially considering that those two were on good terms.

This was the reason the blonde was now seated on a couch in the Slytherin Common Room. He'd been evading the topic of his step-father for the past few months, and she was fed up with it. He wouldn't be able to subtly avoid the subject. Not anymore.

Hearing someone descend the staircase into the Common Room, Hermione turned slightly. She had a feeling it was him.

As always, she was correct.

Blaise was frowning slightly, his hair mussed from sleeping as he yawned. He was paying absolutely no attention to his surroundings.

_Good, it's better I scare him, anyway._

Getting up slowly from her place on the couch, she moved until she was in his way. His eyes were still closed as he walked, almost robotically, to the Common Room door.

"Blaise."

He jumped, his eyes snapping open, as he looked up. The dark-skinned Slytherin stared at her blankly before giving her a quick nod.

"Hermione," he muttered quietly, "what the hell are you doing up so early? And why are you so… awake? It's a little after six in the morning–"

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied easily, arching an eyebrow.

He let out a long, suffering sigh before moving around her and plopping down on the couch.

"Let's just get this over with," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands, "Yes, I've been somewhat avoiding… and no, it's not because I didn't want to talk to you… I just don't know how to tell you–"

A little surprised at how easy it was to get him to open up a bit to her, her stern expression softened, and she sat down next to him.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad."

He looked up at her blearily.

"Yes, it can."

Feeling a bit nervous now at how serious he was, she swallowed.

"We're friends, right?"

Blaise nodded mutely, looking away.

"Well… whatever it is… I can help."

"I highly doubt that, Hermione."

"Well, you're refusing to tell me anything–"

"I don't have a step-father anymore."

She paused, confused.

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked slowly, frowning.

He looked up at her solemnly. She stared back, slightly perturbed at the wary expression on his face.

"'Mione," he swallowed hard before continuing, "he… he _hung himself_."

* * *

**A slice of cake to:** _junealondra, Nicoleeeee-wuvs-you, DestinyOrton, Calimocho, Guest, princesspay10, BW-Photography, Eltanin Rose, LittleMissHugALot, SashaStorm97, L, brighteyes2889, Nala Moon, JuliaLestrange, Somnus Verus, nathaliie, HazelMalfoy18, Bianca the crazy slytherin, Untamed Goddess, RingoHime, Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini, krista12, Like A Clockwork Orange, fanfictionswhore, flaming-twilight, minigirl2428, Cristal90, DeviaLyanMalfoi._ You are all so sweet! I'm so glad I have many fellow PoA lovers for readers. It was definitely one of my favorite books and the movie version really did it justice :) On another note, sorry for the delay. Life got in the way for myself and my beta! I hope the wait was worth it?

_Question: What's your current guilty pleasure song? (mine is "Bad Girls" by M.I.A. It's fucking epic. I blame the trailer for the movie The Heat w/ Sandra Bullock)_

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

* * *

_**Tumblr: potterston**_

* * *

_**Twitter: mnadzz**_


	19. The Labyrinth

**Chapter 19 – The Labyrinth**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Room of Requirement – 12/19/1993**_

"What the _fuck_ is this?"

Hermione swallowed her greeting before moving further into the Room of Requirement.

"Is that… is that the paper–"

Draco's grey eyes clashed with hers expectantly. Merlin, was he in a bad mood today.

"I thought you said there would be no fucking hippogriff to worry about this time!" he snapped, demanding answers.

"Do you have any idea how similar you and Blaise are?" she asked calmly, plopping down onto one of the comfy armchairs.

Hermione could tell her lack of emotion was a bit surprising to Draco. He stared at her, his mouth parted slightly.

She placed her head on the back of the chair, her brown eyes staring at the ceiling.

"You both have ridiculous tempers, are extremely jealous, and seem to be entirely too prideful of yourselves. Although, I have to admit, I don't really think Blaise is as terrible as you are–"

"What does this have to do with anything?" Draco snapped, sitting violently onto the couch opposite her.

"Blaise reacted in the exact same way you did in our original third year," she countered, "He even told your father about the incident because his step-father–"

"–committed suicide," finished Draco, realization dawning on his face.

Her eyes flickered from the ceiling to his curiously.

"What do you know that I don't?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

The brunet waved her off.

"You'll find out soon enough, believe me," he muttered ominously.

"Why can't I find out now?" she frowned.

He shrugged.

"Revenge," he smirked, "You kept things from me. Now it's my turn."

Hermione glared at him before exhaling harshly.

"You're a horrible person."

"And you're hypocritical," he retorted, "In my opinion, I think we're much more similar than you'd like to admit."

The blonde's mouth dropped as he smirked proudly.

"See? You can't even form a retort," Draco pointed out smugly. "I've rendered The Mighty Granger speechless. Merlin, someone give me an award–"

"Do you _want_ me to slap you again?" she hissed.

"You're in denial," he drawled in a sing-song way, that same, irritating smirk on his face.

Hermione got up from the armchair slowly, her wand clenched tightly in her hand.

"I'll give you three seconds to run – a head start, if you will – before I find you and hex you into oblivion," she declared calmly.

Draco raised an eyebrow lazily.

"I highly doubt you'll–"

"_One_."

"–think about doing something like that. You're overreacti–"

"_Two_."

"–you'd never–FUCK!"

Draco yelped and shot out of the chair as Hermione shot a hex at him angrily.

"That's for being a rude prick and practically goading me!" she cried, ducking for cover as the couch exploded.

When she opened her eyes and came out from her spot behind the armchair, the entire room changed. She gasped. There was now a gigantic forest and, right in the middle, something that looked like a maze. The hedges were extremely tall and covered with what looked like vines and moss. Draco was running into it.

"CALM DOWN, GRANGER!" he bellowed, his voice filled with surprise.

Not gracing him with an answer – he seriously needed to be taught a lesson – she scrambled to her feet before sprinting after him and into the labyrinth.

* * *

_**An immeasurable time later…**_

Hermione had stopped running a long time ago. Nursing a terrible stitch in her side, she was walking slowly through the labyrinth, her arms wrapped around her middle. This had all been in a partly-joking manner. It wasn't like she was _actually_ going to hurt Draco – she was used to his waspish attitude and his comments barely affected her nowadays. Although she had been truly angry at him for bringing up their second year – for what seemed like the millionth time, might she add – she only wanted to teach him a little lesson. She'd just wanted to hit him with a small hex, one that wouldn't do too much damage. Even dueling just a little bit would have been fine with her; it would have gotten everything out of her system. The blonde had never in a million years expected it would have come to _this_.

Even though Hermione didn't want to admit it, she was completely lost. Taking a few deep breaths to stop the waves of panic threatening to consume her, she continued walking. She'd been asking the room to take her to Malfoy so they could leave, yet it refused.

_Maybe even the room is sick of our fighting, s_he thought wearily, turning another corner in the labyrinth.

Her wand was held firmly in her hand as she wandered, hoping desperately to find Draco. Although she would never admit it, seeing his face would probably make her cry tears of joy. It was much too silent and creepy here. She wanted out. _Now_. Or, at the very least, to have Draco next to her, whining about how horrible it was that they were stuck in here together – in a room that seemed to have a mind of its own. She had tried retracing her steps once she lost Malfoy only to find that there was no way out. It was like they weren't allowed to leave.

Shuddering from the thought and from the slight breeze, Hermione hugged herself tighter and held her wand out protectively. This was getting ridiculous.

Although it would have been more prudent for her to use the _Sonorous_ charm and try to locate Draco by calling out for him, intuition told her to keep her mouth shut. There was something about this labyrinth… something that made her believe that she and Malfoy weren't alone.

_Merlin, Hermione,_ she scolded herself inwardly as her heart raced, _Why do you have to go scare yourself like this?_

Immediately, the light filtering in through the forest trees dimmed. The blonde's breathing hitched and she held her wand painfully tight.

_What the hell is going on?_

Darkness filled the labyrinth until the only light was coming from the large, bright, full moon. Swallowing hard, Hermione's hand began to shake as her breathing came hard and fast. Her pace quickened.

_Where is the middle… where is the __**middle**__?!_

Every labyrinth had a middle – she just needed to find it. Perhaps that was her exit. Pausing momentarily at a crossroads, the blonde heard a sound.

Her heart beat so quickly in her chest, she couldn't even hear it.

Something was moving behind her, and whatever it was, it was coming for her.

The former-Gryffindor's veins filled with adrenaline before she took in a deep breath and ran.

Hearing leaves crunching behind her, she swallowed a scream before running as fast as possible. No matter how fast she ran, the creature pursuing her was faster.

Silently throwing hexes behind her seemed futile as well – whatever it was, it was dodging them expertly.

She heard a noise and, turning around, saw the figure lunge at her.

Screaming, she threw up her wand.

"_Expelli_–"

Falling back onto the ground violently – the thing on top of her – she tried desperately to scream.

"Shut _up_, Granger!" it hissed.

_Wait…_

A moment later, Malfoy's face came into view, fear in his eyes as his hand clamped over her mouth.

"Do you have any idea how loud you've been?" he whispered angrily, his grey eyes glowing in the dark. "Do you even realize you fucking _talk to yourself_?!"

Relief washed over her body so quickly that, unable to stop herself, the blonde felt tears leak from her eyes.

He frowned at her, moving his face closer to hers, before rolling his eyes and shooting her a disgusted look.

She wrenched his hand off her mouth.

"You have no idea how frightened I've been. I thought some sort of creature was following me, you prat!" she hissed quietly, her brown eyes furious as her voice quivered. "Despite whatever you might think, I'm actually happy that you're here!"

His eyes widened with surprise at her admission before his face slowly contorted with fear.

"You feel it too, don't you?" he breathed, "Something else is in here–"

"Get off me!" she whispered quickly, her eyes widening as her fear mounted. "Get off! We have to keep moving!"

He rolled off her before standing quickly, his wand out protectively, as she got to her feet.

"Where do we go, Granger?" he muttered quietly, his grey eyes taking in the crossroads behind them.

"Forget that crossroads. It's… it's bad," she whispered, trying to keep her fear at bay, "It's a muggle thing–"

"I thought you weren't superstitious?" he asked, looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm not," she countered quickly, "It's just… I have a bad feeling about it."

Draco nodded quickly.

"Let's just keep going."

Surprised at how easily he accepted her explanation, they trudged on.

About to take a right, they both jumped back – Hermione shrieking – when a loud clang was heard and a huge slab of stone fell just a few feet away, effectively blocking the path. Frowning, the pair turned to look at each other, their hearts racing, before glancing behind them. Fear crept up Hermione's spine.

It was the crossroads. They _had_ to go there.

The blonde heard Draco sigh.

"Might as well just go through it. I doubt it's really anything bad, Hermione–"

"I don't think we should–"

Rolling his eyes, Draco just grabbed her arm and tugged her there. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as she followed hesitantly, her eyes alert for any sign of movement.

Swallowing hard as they stood directly in the center, Hermione kept her eyes peeled, her wand held tightly in her right hand.

After a few moments, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Letting go of Draco's hand – she didn't even know she was holding it – she turned and looked behind her.

What she saw, she was not expecting.

There was a girl standing some ten feet away, watching them keenly with dark eyes. They reminded Hermione vaguely of a cat's. The blonde tugged on Draco's arm and the brunet turned, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull when he caught sight of the woman.

She was beautiful – long, dark hair, dark eyes, perfect, tan skin, and attractive features. She was dressed in a simple, black dress and was, curiously enough, barefoot.

Despite the girl's beauty, there was something off about her. Something wasn't right, and Hermione found herself clenching her wand even more tightly in her hand.

"What do you want?" asked Draco quietly, his wand pointed at the girl.

"The question is," she replied in a silky voice, "what is it _you_ want, Draco Malfoy?"

Surprise flashed across the brunet's features before his face hardened.

"How do you know who I am?" he demanded.

She just smiled unnervingly.

Hermione swallowed and tried to remember. Why were crossroads bad omens?

"I can give you what you want – I can release you both from this place."

The blonde's unease increased as the girl walked gracefully towards them. Her dark eyes twinkled and something in the back of Hermione's brain told her to stay away.

Draco, however, slowly lowered his wand.

"You could do that?" he asked, hope etched on his features, "You could get us out of here?"

"Of course," she replied softly, "Shall we make a deal?"

"At what cost?" interjected Hermione slowly, "What do you want from us? Why did you do this?"

She let out a light, sensual laugh.

"I had nothing to do with this. Nothing at all. I was just summoned. And as for the cost…" the girl's eyes glittered, "I just need a kiss."

Draco made a move to walk forward, but Hermione quickly grabbed and dragged him back.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snarled, "This is our way out! All that lady wants is a kiss, I mean, in the grand scheme of things, that isn't too much, now is it?"

Hermione didn't even grace that with an answer. Sending him a dirty look, she just slowly moved around. The woman watched her and turned with her. Something was so off… what was it though? Once again, something at the back of Hermione's brain told her that she was forgetting something crucial.

Sidestepping again, she studied the girl quietly from her feet to the top of her head. Seeing a flash of color, her eyes moved upward and to the girl's. Everything suddenly clicked and she realized the ominous significance of the crossroads. Merlin, how could she have been so stupid?

The girl – no, _creature_ – in front of her grew more impatient.

"Are we doing this or not?" she asked irritably, crossing her arms as she pouted.

Hermione walked back to Draco quickly and held him back.

"No," she replied clearly, swallowing her fear, "We aren't."

"Granger!" hissed Draco angrily, yanking himself out of her grip.

Suddenly, the creature's face contorted so grotesquely that Hermione gasped and took a step back. Draco yelped and followed her quickly. The woman's beautiful face morphed into something disgusting – her skin was grey, her eyes clawed out and bloody, and her hair limp and dull.

"Are you sure, girl?" she snarled angrily, her voice reminding Hermione of nails on a chalkboard.

When the blonde didn't answer, the creature's gory, zombie-like appearance transformed into something that looked like a dense ball of smoke. The entity was suspended in air for a moment before it hurtled towards them.

Screaming involuntarily, she dropped to the ground, Draco quickly following her. Both of them narrowly missed the thing before Hermione made another split second decision.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" she screamed, her wand aimed at the huge ball of smoke.

Her otter soared towards the creature and collided with it. A high-pitched scream – a lot like the sound of a whistle – pierced the air before the acrid stench of fire enveloped the two. A loud explosion, a blast of heat, and the sound of fire followed before all was quiet.

Opening her eyes when she was sure it was over, Hermione found herself clinging to Draco, whose eyes were shut tightly and who, surprisingly, was holding her to him just as strongly.

Catching sight of her surroundings, Hermione lurched upward. Draco opened his eyes tentatively when she tore herself out of his arms and studied their surroundings as well.

They were out of the Room of Requirement. The only indication that they had ever even been in it was their singed robes and tousled hair.

Malfoy sat up as well, bringing a hand to his head.

"Fucking hell, Hermione," he hissed, grimacing, "I know I'm attractive, but did you have to seriously throw me on the ground _that_ hard?"

She turned to look at him, her brown eyes wide with astonishment at the turn of events. Not caring about his snarky, little comment, she shook her head and stood up slowly. Her legs were still shaky and she quickly moved to hold onto the wall.

After a few moments, Draco joined her.

"What _was_ that?" he asked quietly, his grey eyes locking onto hers.

"A demon. You were going to bloody kiss a _demon_, you idiot!" she hissed, slapping him upside the head. He groaned and rubbed his head before sending her a nasty look. "Merlin, you men are all the same. Didn't you find it the least bit odd that some beautiful girl just _happened_ to show up in a creepy labyrinth in the Room of Requirement only _minutes_ after you agreed that some sinister creature was in there with us? Couldn't you tell there was something wrong with her?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco sneered.

"Demons don't exist. They're a myth."

"Didn't you see her eyes?" she asked, astounded at his pig-headedness. "They were a deep red! The only reason we couldn't see them properly was because it was dark! On top of that, _hello_! She turned into a grotesque, corpse-like figure!"

"How did you know, then?" he snapped, turning to glare at her.

"I was observing her. The moonlight hit her eyes perfectly and I caught the color. After that, everything just clicked thanks to that muggle superstition that crossroads are bad omens. You owe me one for saving your arse," she added angrily, "If it weren't for me, you'd have made that stupid deal and something terrible would have happened."

"I could care less about that deal right now, Granger. What I want to know is who put us in there! It obviously wasn't that dem–oh shit."

"What?" Hermione asked quickly, turning to look at him.

"The fairy."

Realization dawned on the blonde and she let out a harsh breath.

"It all makes sense!" breathed Draco, "I felt like someone was watching me the entire time we were in that stupid labyrinth. It couldn't have been the demon because she said she was summoned. It _had_ to have been the fairy."

"Plus, the Room of Requirement isn't evil like that," added Hermione slowly, "The fairy must have done it… I read once that fairies, in some cultures, are thought of as demonic entities – that they're actually demons, not humans or angels – and aren't good. That would explain how she summoned that demon – she's one herself."

"Wonderful," muttered Draco sarcastically, "Just fucking great. There's a bloody _demon_ watching over us. And why, since you seem to know everything, would she do this?"

Hermione frowned, her eyes flashing to Draco's.

"That's just it… I have no idea."

* * *

_**04/05/1994**_

Months had passed since that terrifying encounter with the demon in the Room of Requirement. A muggle had once said that "time heals all wounds". Hermione found he was wrong. In fact, she came to think it actually _exacerbated_ said wounds. It did not heal them. Her memory of what had occurred that night in the Room of Requirement was always in the back of her mind. She found herself constantly thinking about it and trying to figure out what it all meant. Why was the fairy doing this? Was she trying to play around with them? Have fun? Was she trying to show just how much control she had over their situation? What was it with her? The questions were killing Hermione and Draco, who seemed to be in a constant state of deep concentration. It was unnerving. Thankfully, everything was going as planned. Harry finally obtained the Marauder's Map, thanks to the Weasley twins, and had gotten his Firebolt for Christmas. On top of this, he was learning how to cast a Patronus charm, thanks to Professor Lupin, and was improving quickly.

The only sad moment was that the poor hippogriff Blaise had angered was sentenced to death just as Buckbeak was during its trial in her original life. Although Hermione was furious, she found she couldn't stay angry. Despite Blaise's terrible ego, he was going through a lot at the moment and she was trying her best to comfort him. From what he'd told her, they'd been friends for most of their lives – _best_ friends. She was the only one he could talk to, especially since his mother was uncharacteristically distant to him nowadays.

Thankfully, loads of homework was handed out over Easter break. Hermione thought of it as a blessing – finally she could focus her attentions on something _other_ than the fairy, Sirius Black, or Blaise's family problems.

Although it took quite a bit of persuasion and elaboration, Hermione was certain that Harry was on her side. Ron, on the other hand, thought she was completely and utterly mental. Because of his ridiculous reaction, she had kept the identity of Pettigrew a secret. Ron would probably go ballistic if he came to find that his rat was actually a man.

Smiling a bit at how surprised and disturbed he would look if she actually _did_ tell him, the blonde focused on her homework once more. It gave her a lovely excuse to not be downstairs and in the icy company of her parents. They were still extremely cold to one another, however, thankfully, the blonde could see a bit of improvement. Lucius and Narcissa finally seemed to be getting along once more and it was a relief. The past summer had been unbearable because of Narcissa's fury and avoidance of Lucius. Hermione was glad they were finally attempting to get past everything, albeit slowly.

Until they finally did, however, every moment spent with them would be a form of torture.

* * *

_**Room of Requirement – 05/15/1994**_

Today was the first day they'd been in the Room of Requirement for months. Avoiding it seemed to be the best option and the Astronomy Tower had become Draco and Hermione's area of refuge at night. Unfortunately, after narrowly getting caught the week before, the two had mutually decided that, perhaps, it was time to venture back into the Room of Requirement.

As a precaution, Hermione had transformed the room to look like her house – her _actual_ house. To be more specific, her parents' living room. Bookcases lined the walls along with muggle photographs, frames, and decoration. There was the familiar sofa, loveseat, and armchair complete with the coffee table, lamp, and curiously enough, the telly.

Merlin, did it feel good to be in her own house.

It had been years, and when the room had actually been able to recreate the look and feel of it, she had nearly cried with joy.

Draco had been interested in her house until he caught sight of the television. Confused with what it was, she had spent awhile explaining it to him. Eventually, Hermione had wondered if it would actually work and, surprisingly enough, a remote appeared on the coffee table following her question.

When she tentatively pressed the power button and found, to her complete astonishment, that it worked _and_ played movies, the blonde couldn't contain her excitement. She'd been so bored – homework was too easy for her and there was only so much you could prepare for the next lesson, especially considering she knew virtually _everything_. This gave her a whole host of opportunities.

Plopping on the couch, she'd slowly explained to Draco, who had been frightened at the people on screen, how to work it. It only took a few moments – he was a fast learner – for him to figure it out. He'd been completely immersed in it ever since.

That was three hours ago.

"Draco…" ventured Hermione slowly, a slight frown finding its way onto her features, "Why don't you know what a telly is? You've been living with my parents for over three years now–"

"I just assumed it was another one of your muggle decorations," he replied, his attention focused on the television.

"But you've been with my parents–"

Draco just turned and gave her a look.

"Do… do you mean to say… that you've just stayed in your room – _my_ room – the entire time?!" she asked incredulously.

"Well, I've gone down for meals–"

"Through the summer holidays you've just sat in my room?!" cried Hermione, staring at him as if he were insane. "How–"

"Your parents are away most of the day in the summer," Draco said nonchalantly, "I just stay in your room and read or–"

"You _read_? _Muggle books_?" she asked, amazed.

"Well, yes, they aren't as horrible as I first th–"

"Draco, I don't think that's healthy–"

"Coming from the bookworm herself?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I read, yes, but not every hour of every day!"

The brunet rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to the television.

"Right, like I should believe that."

* * *

_**An hour later…**_

"Don't Harry and Ron ever wonder where you are?" Hermione asked sleepily, curling on her favorite armchair.

Draco shrugged noncommittally, his eyes _still_ glued to the screen.

"I _highly_ doubt they check up on me every night, Hermione," he replied sarcastically. "They aren't my parents."

"Still," she yawned, her eyes flickering from the telly to the brunet. "Don't they know you leave every night once or twice a week?"

Malfoy shrugged again.

"But–"

He let out a long, suffering sigh before turning to look at her.

"Can I _please_ watch this without you harassing me?"

Hermione tried valiantly to hide a smile. She couldn't help herself, _he used the_ _p-word_.

"Sure," she replied, grinning.

He stared at her suspiciously for a second before turning back to the telly.

* * *

_**Two hours later…**_

"Hermione… Hermione? _GRANGER_!"

The blonde jolted awake sleepily.

"What? What is it?" she yawned.

"Do muggles… have… they… sex?" asked Draco, his eyes wide as he stood in front of her, his hand still shaking her.

She frowned. That made no sense… she must have tuned him out. The only thing she could register was her body shaking, but not of her own volition.

"I'm bloody awake now," she snapped, eyeing him blearily. "You can stop shaking me!"

"Right," he replied, immediately retracting his arm at her harsh glare. "But, seriously… prostitutes?"

"What? What's the question?" she asked, confused, before turning to look at the television screen.

"Prostitutes," he commented, as if it were obvious, "are women you can pay for sex, right? And muggles have these? You can _buy sex_?"

"Yes… wait… what the hell are you watching?" she cried, getting up from the armchair.

After a few moments of staring at the television screen, the blonde finally recognized the two people on-screen.

"You're watching _Risky Business_?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, this Lana girl… wow…"

"Shut up!" she snapped, slapping him upside the head and grabbing the remote out of his hands.

"But it's good–"

"Stop fantasizing about prostitutes, Malfoy!"

"I just thought it was an ingenious idea, is all," he muttered, sending her severe look as he rubbed the side of his head. "I mean," he straightened immediately, smirking, "this means I can hire a prostitute like the Joel man in this movie – I don't even care if she's a muggle – and _finally_–"

"Shut up! I don't want to hear about your filthy fantasies!"

"Nice alliteration," he commented, winking.

Hermione threw a pillow at him.

Draco just ducked, laughing.

* * *

**Hugs and lots and lots of love to: **_ShadowKissedGallagherGirlLex ia, ThePenIsMighty, Twizard2013, Guest, gryffindorprincess186, HazelMalfoy18, LittleMissHugALot, Snowstorm Draco, The Last Poison Apple, BW-Photography, princesspay10, Cristal90, blackshoes21, Eltanin Rose, Guest, Vampireroses, Hair Like Starlight, Like A Clockwork Orange, Zann Steves, Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini, Somnus Verus, kimmyAllen, Untamed Goddess, flaming-twilight, Calimocho, iluvaqt, mh21, warrior-of-water, nathaliie, Claudie, Bianca the crazy slytherin, anidot90, RingoHime, fanfictionswhore. _Thank you all for your amazing reviews :) I love you guys so much! Here's a quick update for all of you amazing reviewers and readers.

_Question: What the hell do you think the fairy is trying to accomplish?_

Please do_ **favorite/alert/review!**_

* * *

**_Tumblr: potterston  
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* * *

**_Twitter: mnadzz_**


	20. Time is Running Out

**Chapter 20 – Time is Running Out**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Near the Hospital Wing – 06/09/1994**_

Waiting for them while in detention with Filch had been one of the worst forms of torture Hermione could think of. Of all days, he _had_ to give her detention _today_ – one of the most important nights of her life. She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.

The reason for it had occurred just last week. She'd stayed with Malfoy in the room for far too long and had fallen asleep. Waking up around midnight, Hermione had roughly shook Draco awake before scrambling for her things and leaving. So tired was she, that the blonde completely forgot about the fact that Filch was constantly patrolling the corridors and searching for students out of bed. As a sad twist of fate, she'd been caught and given detention.

It was ten at night now.

Hermione knew she was late. _Extremely_ late. Moonlight was filtering in through the windows in the castle as the blonde changed course and ran to the Hospital Wing instead of outside and into the darkness. After all, who knew what events had transpired now? Draco could have changed everything just because he was, well, _Draco_. Panic fueled each and every one of her steps as she ran as quickly as possible to the Infirmary. Her resolve to change direction only increased after taking into consideration that Lupin had probably already turned into a werewolf. If she went out now, the chances of her wrecking everything – or getting hurt – would just increase.

Catching sight of the doors to the Hospital Wing, the blonde quickly hid in a darkened alcove. Dumbledore's words flashed through her mind once again as though it were just yesterday…

_Remember this, both of you: you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law – you know what is at stake… __**You**__ – __**must**__ – __**not**__ – __**be**__ – __**seen**__… It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck._

Taking a few deep breaths to keep her composure, Hermione focused her attention on the door.

* * *

_**Almost an hour and a half later…**_

The blonde woke up to hushed murmurs and the swishing of cloaks. Her memory quickly coming back to her, Hermione blinked a few times and shook her head to wake herself up. Crouching, she slowly moved out of the alcove just in time to see three people – one with long, white hair, another with shoulder-length, black, visibly oily hair, and the last man with shoulder-length, grey hair – enter the Hospital Wing.

_Just in time._

Adrenaline flowed through her veins as she strained her ears to pick up any conversation. It wasn't too long before two quarreling voices – Harry's and Snape's – were heard through the door and Dumbledore finally kicked the Minister and her potion's professor out.

If she were to be honest, Hermione didn't trust anyone except Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, and Draco in this situation. Snape already had too much animosity with Sirius and was her _Godfather_ for Merlin's sake. Who knew how he would react to her barging into the Hospital Wing and using her Time-Turner to save a man who made every moment of his teenage life a living hell? Not well, she assumed. On top of this, he could go and tell Lucius what she was up to – the friends she was making – and that could ruin everything. As for Fudge… she never did trust that man. His reaction to Harry's predicament at the end of the Triwizard Tournament only cemented her dislike of him.

So here she was, placing a disillusionment charm upon herself and tiptoeing quietly over to the doors of the Hospital Wing. Snape and Fudge were walking away, but still within hearing and seeing distance. Better safe than sorry.

Pausing as she grasped the door handles, the blonde turned to look at the two. They were talking, Snape in an aggravated fashion, about the entire situation.

Finally deeming it was safe, she slowly opened the doors and slipped inside.

After turning to close them behind her softly, the former-Gryffindor whirled around only to see four pairs of curious eyes staring at the door that seemed to have miraculously opened by itself.

Hermione's eyes flickered from Draco, who looked visibly relieved – _He must know it's me_ – to Dumbledore's knowing ones.

"As I was saying, Harry," said Dumbledore slowly as Hermione released the disillusionment charm, "_We need more_ _time_."

"I know I shouldn't ask, but how _did_ you know it was me, headmaster?" asked Hermione as Harry and Ron stared on in silent amazement.

Dumbledore just smiled.

"A hunch, I suppose. Good luck…"

Before anyone could get a word in edgewise, he disappeared through the doors of the Infirmary.

"What the bloody hell was that? Why are you here, Hermione?" exclaimed Ron suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as he looked her up and down.

The blonde let out a sigh of relief when she was finally able to inspect Harry.

"Hermione, what are you _doing_?" asked the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Thank Merlin you're all alive," she breathed, finally assured that no one – save Ron – had broken any limbs.

"Of course they're bloody well alive!" sneered Draco, "I'm not incompetent–"

"I never said you _were_!" Hermione snapped, turning to face the grouchy brunet.

Harry and Ron sighed.

"Not again," muttered Ron under his breath. "Would you two just stop fighting and explain to us what's going on?"

"No time," replied Hermione shortly.

Ron's mouth dropped incredulously.

"What… so you have enough time to fight with Granger over here, but you can't–"

"Harry, you can walk properly, right?" she asked, ignoring the spluttering redhead.

He nodded slowly, his emerald eyes still staring at her in befuddlement.

"Good," she smiled before grabbing his hand and yanking him to his feet. He winced slightly. "It's time to go."

"What?" he asked, confused, "Where are we going, Hermione?"

Not gracing him with an answer, she thanked the Gods that her Time-Turner chain was long enough to encompass all three of them.

"It's going to be a tight fit," she muttered, pulling the golden necklace out from under her uniform, "But I think it'll work–"

"You're friends with a mental woman, Harry!" exclaimed Ron over her muttering, "Don't go with her, who knows what–"

"_Silencio_," Hermione muttered, her wand pointed haphazardly over her shoulder at Ron.

She really had no time for his insipid comments, especially if she wanted to catch Pettigrew.

Draco sniggered as Ron turned an interesting shade of puce, and Harry just watched on a bit suspiciously now.

Not waiting for permission, she quickly slung the necklace over Draco's head and around his neck.

"Yes, definitely a tight fit," she mumbled, sighing as she pulled on the chain.

"Do you _mind_?" snapped Draco, "You're practically choking me!"

"Harry!" she called, ignoring the fuming brunet in front of her, "Squeeze in here, would you?"

The raven-haired boy stared at the necklace wrapped around Draco and Hermione's necks wearily.

"Uh, Hermione… there's barely any room with just you and Draco under it, how–"

"I'll make it work. Now–"

Hermione's words were drowned out as the loud chime of the clock sounded throughout the castle.

"Quickly!" she cried, running over to Harry and almost choking Draco again. The brunet coughed spasmodically and gave her a dirty look. "We have to go! We have to go _now_!"

"But what–"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Hermione roughly threw the chain over Harry's head – effectively sandwiching her between the two Gryffindors – before turning to face Draco. The Time-Turner's chain was stretched to the limit, but it fit around them. The only problem was the feeling of the uncomfortable, almost sharp pressure of the metal biting into her neck.

_Thank Merlin it fits._

"No sudden movements," she cautioned imperiously, grabbing the pendant, which was on Draco's shoulder, and slowly pulling it closer to her.

_Right, three turns._

"What is–" started the raven-haired boy, his hand coming up from behind her to touch the Time-Turner.

She violently swatted both Harry and Draco's hands away from it before the world began to blur.

"Merlin, Hermione," moaned Draco, "You're no bloody fun. I just want a look–"

"Shut up or I'll make you," she snapped.

His grey eyes flickered from their changing surroundings to hers. He smirked.

"If you wanted a threeso–"

"_Silencio_," she barked, jabbing the wand painfully into his chest.

He glared at her reproachfully before mouthing out words that she was sure would make Narcissa faint.

A moment later, the world stopped spinning and it was lighter outside – much lighter. Golden streams of sunlight were pouring in through the high windows of the infirmary and it was, thankfully, deserted.

Hermione quickly took the chain off from around Draco and then Harry's neck.

"Hermione, what–"

"No time," she hissed, tugging both of them into the closest broom closet and shoving them in roughly.

Taking a quick look around the hallway, she suddenly spotted Neville, who was staring at the scene, his mouth open. Time seemed to freeze for a moment and horror spread through her veins. She was caught. It took her a moment to realize it was only Neville, who probably didn't even know where the actual Harry, Draco, and Hermione were. To him, this looked like…

_Oh Merlin. Even worse._

She smiled awkwardly at him.

"Hello, Neville. It's so nice to–_Confundus_," she chirped with a swish of her wand. The blonde paused long enough to catch the disoriented and slightly nauseated look on his face and in his eyes, before disappearing quickly into the broom closet.

_I'll handle that later._

Harry was looking at her expectantly, squished between Draco and a bunch of mops. The brunet, on the other hand, was just staring at her in mute anger. She sent him a sardonic smile.

"Hermione, _what_ is going on? What just happened–"

"Look," Hermione grabbed the Time-Turner from around her neck and thrust it into his face. He jumped before focusing on the necklace. "See this?" she asked, shaking it slightly. "This is a Time-Turner, Harry. We've just gone back in time. Quite a few hours, actually."

"But that's not–"

"Shhh!"

The blonde placed her ear on the door and frowned, listening hard.

"Hear that?" she breathed.

"What is it?" asked Harry, moving so his ear was up against the door as well.

"Voices… now I hear footsteps… It must be you, Ron, and Draco going to Hagrid's, am I correct? Did you two pass by an utterly confused Neville on your way?"

"Er… yes, he seemed really out of it. He was vomiting on the floor, didn't even notice us–"

Hermione sighed, relieved. Perhaps she didn't have to _Obliviate_ him, after all.

"Alright, good. Now, when the footsteps fade, we're going to leave and follow past-you, past-Ron, and past-Draco, alright Harry?"

The Boy-Who-Lived frowned in a confused manner. The blonde sighed. Perhaps she overestimated Harry's ability to learn on the job. If she recalled correctly, he hadn't been this slow in her actual life…

"Where did you get that thing, Hermione?"

His voice cut into her thoughts and she shook her head slightly, pushing them to the back of her mind. Now wasn't the time to compare this Harry and her original Harry's characteristics and similarities.

_Merlin! They're both the same, Hermione! Snap out of it!_

Her brown eyes flashed to Harry's.

"Remember when McGonagall called both of us to her office after that train ride?" she whispered.

He nodded.

"She told me about it," Hermione continued, "She confirmed the fact that I'd be using the Time-Turner this year. Then I was called to see Snape and he gave it to me and taught me how to use it. I need it for my classes, Harry. I wanted to take everything this year and many of the times clash. I used the Time-Turner to go back in time so I could attend all my classes. It was hard to get one – both McGonagall and Snape pulled all sorts of strings to obtain one for me."

"Alright," Harry said, nodding slowly as understanding washed over him, "That makes sense… but _why_ have we been sent back to this time? Dumbledore said that more than one innocent life may be spared earlier… wait… does that mean… he wants us to save the hippogriff, too?"

Hermione nodded, "Exactly, Harry–"

"We can fly him up to the tower to get Sirius, can't we? That's what Dumbledore wants us to do! Now it all makes sense!" he exclaimed.

The blonde smiled in response.

"C'mon, let's go. You guys must be by Hagrid's now. We can follow you, Draco, and Ron on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. We don't want to be seen by anyone inside the castle–"

Two fingers tapped Hermione sharply on the shoulder.

The blonde turned to find Draco glaring heatedly at her and pointing to his face.

"_Take off the fucking charm, Hermione_," he mouthed.

Rolling her eyes, she released the spell.

"Thank the Gods," he snapped, his grey eyes steely as he glanced from the blonde to the closet door impatiently, "Now, can we get the bloody hell out of here?"

"Harry?" asked Hermione, her eyes flickering to his. "You understand, right?"

He nodded before his face suddenly contorted into a frown.

"Wait, there's–"

"Okay, wonderful, let's go," interrupted Draco, shoving his way out of the broom closet.

* * *

_**Hagrid's Hut**_

Hiding behind one tree, the time-traveling trio watched as past-Draco, past-Harry, and past-Ron entered Hagrid's Hut.

"Okay, we have to do this quickly. After the committee comes, we have about a minute to grab the hippogriff–what was his name again?" Hermione suddenly faltered, her mind coming up blank.

"Not important," Draco bit out, his eyes focused on the scene in Hagrid's Hut.

"Within a minute," restated Harry, "We have about a _minute_ to get that hippogriff out of there?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, frowning, "but we need to make sure they see the creature, that way–"

"–that way they don't accuse Hagrid," he finished solemnly. "Alright, no problem. No problem at all."

Draco raised an eyebrow, but thankfully said nothing.

At that very moment, the back door opened and past-Harry, past-Ron, and past-Draco came out, Hagrid shooing them and telling them to leave before they're seen. Hermione watched quietly, trying not to make a sound, as the trio ran towards them, hid behind the patch of pumpkins long enough for Dumbledore, Fudge, Macnair, and one of the older committee members to enter Hagrid's Hut, before throwing the invisibility cloak over themselves and making a run for it.

Hermione slowly emerged from the trees, her eyes flickering between the window in Hagrid's Hut and the hippogriff, before bending and making her way over to the creature.

"HERMIONE!" she heard Harry and Draco vehemently whisper her name.

She turned around to look at them.

"_What_?" she mouthed.

Draco pointed furiously at Harry, who was also pointing to himself, and then the hippogriff. The blonde just shook her head. Although she was initially going to have Harry do it, Hermione came to the realization that it might be easier if she did it. After all, the hippogriff would remember her, and for a short period of time, it even kind of _liked_ her.

_Until Blaise went and ruined it_, she thought irritably.

Staying low to the ground, the former-Gryffindor quickly sprinted over to the hippogriff. Grabbing its attention, she locked eyes with the creature and bowed. After a moment, it bowed back as well, before losing all interest in her. Hermione walked over to the rope and quickly untied it from the pole before trying hard to get the hippogriff to move. The bird just looked at her, agitated, and stomped its feet.

_C'mon… c'mon!_

The Slytherin wracked her brain for any sort of spell that would help her at all in this situation. Getting a sudden idea, the blonde placed a cheering charm upon the animal and tugged once more. To her utmost relief, it followed jovially, and swiftly, into the protective shade of the forest.

When Hermione, Harry, and Draco were positive they were properly concealed, the trio stopped and listened to the chatter drifting over to them.

Macnair was filled with rage, Hagrid was crying tears of joy, Dumbledore seemed amused, and Fudge was dumbfounded.

"Good job, Hermione," breathed Draco and Harry.

* * *

_**The Whomping Willow**_

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Did… did Pettigrew escape?" she whispered.

She could barely see his face in the darkness, but his silence was telling.

"I think so," he finally murmured, "After he bit Ron, he vanished."

"Wait… _what_?"

"You know how he bites Ron and runs off?" asked Draco, turning to face her. "Yeah… he disappeared after that. Weasel ran after him and was about to catch him, but Pettigrew somehow scampered off. Then, Sirius dragged Ron under the Whomping Willow–"

"You're joking," she breathed.

"Nope," he replied, turning to stare ahead once more.

_But… how could he just disappear?_

Everything suddenly fell into place and Hermione's eyes widened before her hands found the Time-Turner and held it tightly.

"We have to go back."

"What?" asked Draco, turning to look at her in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Don't you get it?" she cried, leaping up from her spot on the ground, "We have to go back in time again!"

"Hermione, _what_ are you talking about?" asked Harry and Draco simultaneously.

"Pettigrew vanished, didn't he? Ron never caught him before Sirius dragged him under the Whomping Willow, am I right?"

The two nodded slowly.

"Then _we_ must have. He can't just disappear! He has no wand, _nothing_! Where would he disappear to? We must have found and taken him somehow!"

Realization suddenly dawned on the two boys, and she sighed in relief. Thank Merlin she wasn't stuck with Ron – he would have made everything so much more difficult.

"But is that even possible?" questioned Draco, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess we'll find out," she replied.

Grabbing the Time-Turner, she wrapped it around Draco's neck and then Harry's before turning it once and taking them back an hour.

* * *

_**Forbidden Forest**_

They were hiding behind a tree, meters away from their original time-traveling counterparts, who were hiding and watching past-Draco, past-Harry, and past-Ron in Hagrid's Hut.

"Talk about bloody déjà vu," muttered Draco under his breath, "We're watching ourselves _watch ourselves_."

"What about the hippogriff?" whispered Harry, frowning, "Hermione, what'll happen to him?"

"He'll be fine. We tied him up to that tree before we went back, so he won't go anywhere. As long as we return to that spot in time, everything will go perfectly."

The second time-traveling trio watched the original time-traveling trio closely. When they saw Hermione leave the cover of the trees, the three took it as their cue to follow past-Harry, past-Ron, and past-Draco to the top of the hill by the castle.

"Cast disillusionment charms!" Hermione hissed, arriving at the edge of the forest.

Quickly casting one upon herself, she focused on the situation.

"We have to run," she whispered when Harry and Draco caught up with her, "We have to get to the Whomping Willow before your past selves do so one of us can grab Pettigrew and leave unnoticed."

"Let's go, then," whispered Draco before getting up and running once more.

Barely able to see the outline of his body, Hermione and Harry followed quickly and soon the three were watching past-Draco, past-Ron, and past-Harry from the back.

"I'll do it," Hermione breathed, not waiting for a response before sprinting across and behind them to the Whomping Willow.

Just as she made it, the blonde heard voices and footsteps. Whirling around, she kept her eyes peeled for the rat and her wand out and in front of her.

_I just need to cast an Immobilus on him. Then I can grab him and we can leave_, she thought desperately.

Suddenly, something brown and furry came rushing from the undergrowth. Hermione quickly whispered the incantation and sighed in relief when it hit its target.

The blonde grabbed Pettigrew as the footsteps got louder and louder, before quickly ducking behind a bush.

Looking out, she saw Ron point at Sirius, who was in dog-form, before the escapee sprinted forward and grabbed the redhead's leg and dragged him under the Whomping Willow. Seizing the moment – seeing as past-Draco and past-Harry's attentions were otherwise occupied – she quickly ran from her spot behind the bush back to Harry and Draco.

"Into the forest!" she hissed, before running towards the cover of the trees.

When Hermione was positive she was safe, she released the disillusionment charm and sighed, her back against a tree. Merlin, she hated running. Turning her head sideways, she caught Draco and Harry trudging over to her, their disillusionment charms having vanished as well.

"You caught him," Harry said, his eyes locking onto the immobile rat in her hands. A hungry glint crept into his eyes.

"Harry…" warned Draco, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Not now. I promise you," his grey eyes flickered to Hermione's, "he won't get away."

Harry looked to Hermione for confirmation.

"Of course," she said, nodding quickly, before clenching the rat more tightly in her hands. "I promise that at the end of the night, he'll still be with me. I won't let him get away again."

The Boy-Who-Lived stared at her searchingly before finally relaxing.

Nodding and turning around, he muttered, "Let's go."

* * *

_**Forbidden Forest**_

They were watching themselves watch themselves. _Again_.

Draco sighed.

"I can't wait for the past, time-traveling us to disappear already," he whined, rubbing his hands over his face, "This is so bloody weird. Plus, it's been the longest day of my life."

"Join the club," responded Hermione and Harry tiredly.

A few minutes later, the first time-traveling Hermione's voice drifted over excitedly. Seconds later, the three finally disappeared.

"Thank Merlin," the trio muttered, walking up to the spot their counterparts had been seated in next to the bored hippogriff.

Once Hermione was somewhat comfortable, she turned to look back at the creature speculatively.

_What was his name?_

"Sharpclaw," commented Draco in a monotone.

"What?" she asked, turning to look at him curiously.

"You asked a question, I answered. Sharpclaw… that's the name of the hippogriff."

Hermione frowned, about to inform him that she hadn't spoken out loud when he gave her a look. His words from the labyrinth rang through her mind.

_Do you have any idea how loud you've been? Do you even realize you fucking __talk to yourself__?!_

"Guys," interrupted Harry, standing.

Hermione glanced at him before looking at the Whomping Willow.

It was Lupin. He was transforming.

They all moved around the outskirts of the forest following past-Harry, who was trying to protect Sirius.

Standing at the spot she remembered from her original third year, Hermione drew in a large breath, about to howl, when Pettigrew suddenly awoke in her hands and jumped out.

"NO!" she screamed, running after him, "_Immobilus_! IMMOBILUS! _IMMOBILUS_! Draco, _HOWL_!"

When she heard the brunet mimic a werewolf howl – albeit reluctantly – she continued running after the stupid rat. The blonde frantically yelled the curse out over and over again until it _finally_ hit its target. Sighing as relief washed over her, Hermione grabbed Pettigrew and ran back only to see Harry and Draco staring at the distance in horror.

"What?" she breathed, frowning, before turning to see the werewolf charging towards them. Her brown eyed widened with terror. "RUN!" she screeched, pushing Draco and Harry violently in front of her and starting forward.

Immediately, the two unfroze and started running. Lupin, however, was so close, she could feel his pounding steps and rancid breath on the back of her neck.

Hermione twisted away from her professor's jaws and claws before willing her legs to run faster, however, she felt her strength start to deplete. She was tired – _so bloody tired_. Gathering up a little more of her energy, she quickly shot a powerful _Immobilus_ behind her.

The pounding steps stopped. The blonde flipped around to see her professor frozen on the ground. Sighing, she held a hand over her heart to catch her breath, the other squeezing her closed hand to ensure Pettigrew was still in it.

_That was too close, much too close._

After a few moments, Harry and Draco ran back to her.

"Hermione, where…" the Boy-Who-Lived paused when he caught sight of the frozen werewolf about ten feet away.

"Are you alright?" asked Draco, frowning as he looked at her. "You don't look well–"

"I'm fine," she rasped, leaning down to brace herself on her knees. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. "I just… need to catch… my breath."

Why did her lungs hurt so much?

"_Holy shit_."

"What?" she breathed, confused.

"What the hell is _that_?" Draco was staring at the side of her body, terrified.

Frowning, she looked down and gasped. Red. All she could see was _red_. Experimentally, she brought her hand down and touched her side. Bringing it up and into the moonlight, Hermione saw that it was definitely blood. And it was most definitely _hers_.

Horror crawled through her veins.

"N-No…" she whispered, feeling the beginnings of hyperventilation. "I wasn't… I didn't even feel…"

Dizziness clouded her brain, and she leaned against the tree.

"Hermione, you don't think…" trailed off Harry, stricken, as he looked between her and Lupin.

"Oh Merlin, no… no, no, no, _no_!" she wailed.

"Only one way to find out," said Draco tersely, his grey eyes staring at her injured side. "Take off your shirt."

"Don't be ridiculous–" she breathed.

"Do it, Hermione," nodded Harry, frowning deeply as his eyes flickered from hers to her side. "We have to know–"

"I can find out later–"

"Well, someone has to bloody _heal_ you, at the very least!" snapped Draco, his grey eyes flashing. "Either you take it off or _I_ will." The brunet raised an eyebrow challengingly.

Frowning and closing her eyes she nodded a few times.

"Okay… okay," she breathed, trying to calm herself down.

It didn't escape her notice that the wound was right where her right ribs and lung should be. If she was indeed hurt badly, it would explain the pain that came alongside every breath she took.

_Don't lose it, Hermione. It's fine. It's alright. You're __**fine**__._

She slowly took off her sweater and handed it to Harry, who was watching her almost sadly. The blonde tried hard not to think of the fact that she was practically stripping in front of two of the closest people in her life. Swallowing, she slowly unbuttoned her Oxford, her eyes focused only on the shirt. The blonde made sure the two top buttons were still closed. No way in hell was she taking the entire thing off, especially considering the only person that was even marginally qualified to heal her was Draco.

_Oh Merlin… Draco is going to bloody see me half-naked._

Not meeting either of their eyes, she brought the right side of her shirt up quickly, exposing her entire torso and lower chest as the blood rushed to her face in embarrassment. Her eyes were shut so tightly it hurt.

"How is it?" Hermione asked in a small voice, goosebumps erupting over her skin from the chilly air and from the feeling of two pairs of eyes on her exposed skin.

There was a moment of silence before a cold pair of hands touched the skin just under the wound. The blonde hissed and moved away. Merlin, the pain was _horrible_. How did she not notice this? Her eyes snapped open to see Draco crouching before her.

"_Don't_," she breathed painfully, "Just heal it, take away the blood, _something_–"

Taking a breath, Hermione winced.

_I definitely punctured a lung_, she thought, panic washing over her.

"Stand still, then," Draco commanded, before muttering a quick "_Tergeo_".

The blonde opened her eyes to see him frowning as he regarded the now-clean wound.

"Please tell me–"

"You weren't bitten," he announced, relief coloring his words, "And the only way to become a werewolf–"

"–is if the saliva gets into the bloodstream," finished Harry, sighing with relief. "For once, that essay Snape gave us in DADA was actually good for _something_–"

"You're positive?" Hermione asked.

Draco's eyes flickered to hers.

"Of course," he replied in a slightly offended tone.

The blonde nodded quickly, her head resting against the tree as relief spread through her body.

"Thank Merlin," muttered Harry.

"Can you heal me? Or is it too deep?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Too deep," responded Draco, getting up from his crouch, "I think Lupin swiped at you with one of his claws. You must not have felt it because of the adrenaline. I'm sure you have a punctured lung – by your labored breathing – and your skin, and possibly a muscle, is torn. You need Pomfrey."

She nodded.

"What an astute observation," she commented sarcastically.

He just raised an eyebrow.

"Turn around," she said, thrusting Pettigrew into Draco's hands.

In one swift movement, Hermione grabbed the sweater from Harry and held it up to cover her front as they turned. With their backs to her, she quickly shrugged out of her shirt and wrapped it around her ribs – nearly crying out in pain – before grabbing the sweater and throwing it over her head.

"Alright," she said, "I've changed. Let's go," she said hoarsely, wincing as a cold, biting wind swept through the forest.

"Hermione, you can't possibly–"

"The shirt will act as a bandage and will clot the blood flow for now, Harry," she hissed through clenched teeth, "_We have to go."_

The two just nodded mutely.

"You're so fucking insane, you know that?" commented Draco softly as he fell in step with her.

"How so?" she rasped, clutching her abdomen as they walked hastily through the forest.

Was it just her or was everything tilting?

"Well, other than the usual, you're insisting that we go on, even though you're about three seconds away from…"

Hermione fainted.

* * *

"…that," Draco muttered, catching her quickly.

"She fainted didn't she?" called out Potter, who had paused from his jog about a dozen or so feet away.

"Keep running, Potter… you need yourself right now more than we do," he yelled, shifting Hermione so he was carrying her bridal style – while trying hard not to suffocate Pettigrew – before gazing up at the sky as another gust of wind blew through the forest.

Dementors.

"Just…"

Draco looked down and caught the raven-haired boy's gaze.

"…take care of her," finished Harry solemnly, his emerald eyes flickering from Draco's to the girl in his arms before he turned and ran.

"Don't worry, Potter," Draco murmured, his face clearing when his eyes flickered to Hermione's.

"I will."

* * *

_**Hospital Wing**_

Her lung hurt, her ribs hurt, her body hurt, her mind hurt, _everything_ hurt.

Squeezing her eyes shut – they hurt, as well – Hermione groaned.

_What happened? _

The events of late suddenly rushed to the forefront of her mind and the blonde gasped, her eyes flying open. She shot straight up in the air, only to whimper in pain and clutch her side. Looking around wildly, the blonde registered the familiar high, open windows and bright space that she associated with the Hospital Wing. Looking to her right, Hermione saw Harry sleeping on the bed next to her and Draco slouched in a chair, sleeping soundly between them.

Looking to her left, she saw Ron fast asleep as well and, surprisingly, _not_ snoring for once.

_It's over… they did it._

Only Merlin knew how they accomplished it – perhaps Draco _was_ listening to Hermione all those times she instructed him on what would happen at the end of the year. The blonde was so curious to know how they did it… after another few hours of rest.

Positive she was safe, Hermione slowly slumped back onto the bed and allowed sleep to claim her.

* * *

_**06/12/1994**_

Frowning, Hermione turned over on her bed. There were voices… a few of them… talking – no, _whispering_ – somewhere to her right…

Opening her eyes slowly, the blonde saw something she'd wanted to see for the longest time.

"Sirius?" she whispered, a smile growing on her face.

A man with long, matted, black hair, sharp, black eyes, unhealthy, almost translucent skin, and features that, she knew, would be handsome once his health was restored, turned to look at her.

Harry and Draco, who were standing on either side of him, walked over to her. Both of them looked relieved. Turning, she saw Ron on the bed to her left. The redhead gave her a quick nod. Her smile grew.

"Merlin, Hermione, you've been out for _days_," said Harry, sitting on her bed. "We were worried."

"Yes, well, I'm alright now, aren't I?" she asked, slowly sitting up.

Her eyes flickered from Harry's, to Draco's, and then eventually, to Sirius's.

"Hermione _Malfoy_, am I right?" asked Black, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Yes."

"Well, I'm glad to know someone in my wretched family turned out alright," he commented, laughing – no, _barking_ – lightly before walking over as well. He crouched down next to her. "Thank you so much. How can I ever repay you – repay _all_ of you for what you've done? I'm… I'm a free man," he breathed incredulously, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah, how did you guys do it?" asked Hermione, turning to look at Draco and then Harry. "I don't even remember passing out–"

"I had to carry you. The _entire time_," muttered Draco, grimacing at the memory, "After awhile, I couldn't feel my arms. On top of that, I was holding bloody Pettigrew, who, thankfully, was unconscious for the rest of it."

"Is he in the castle as well?"

"With Dumbledore and Fudge," chimed in Harry, a vengeful glint in his eyes. "They aren't letting him out of their sight. It also helps that he's walking around in chains. We _were_ waiting on news from the Ministry…"

"Yeah," snorted Malfoy, "After Fudge insisted we have a court hearing, Potter, here, used a little of his 'Boy-Who-Lived magic' and wormed Pettigrew out of one. Merlin, Fudge has a soft spot for you, Harry," Draco rolled his eyes, "Pettigrew is getting the Dementor's kiss, no hearing needed… we just aren't sure when."

"It better be as soon as possible," Hermione grumbled, "I went through too much trouble to keep that idiot with me."

"Yeah," interjected Draco slyly, his grey eyes flashing, "I mean, you almost got bitten by Lupin and then had to strip in front of myself and Harry. How _horrible_… for you."

Ron's mouth dropped, Sirius's eyes widened, and Harry turned a bright shade of red while Draco looked smug.

"You're a prick!" Hermione cried, her face burning before she buried her head in a pillow. "Merlin, I was hoping you would forget–"

"You guys got a _striptease_?" exclaimed Ron disbelievingly.

"Believe me, mate," muttered Harry, sounding mortified, "It wasn't what you think it was."

"My Godson's growing up," Hermione heard Sirius say, a touch of pride in his voice.

"Could we _stop_ discussing this!" she yelled into her pillow, her face burning even more at his comment.

Draco and Sirius just laughed.

* * *

_**King's Cross – 06/18/1994**_

Hermione spent the entire ride to King's Cross grinning. She couldn't help herself – it seemed natural… _appropriate_. Pettigrew's kiss was scheduled for the twentieth of this month – two days from now – and although she knew she wouldn't be able to make it unless she snuck out of Malfoy Manor, she was happy knowing it would happen soon enough. She'd wanted justice for Sirius for over seven years now, and in two days, both he and Harry would _finally_ be getting it.

Coming off the train, Hermione, Harry, Draco, and Ron all said their goodbyes. Ron was holding the owl that Sirius sent along with his letter to Harry happily, and, after seeing his family, quickly called out, "I'll send word about the World Cup!"

Harry and Draco nodded as Molly ran up and gave the two boys big hugs. She turned to Hermione hesitantly. A small, wary smile found its way onto her face before she slowly pulled her into a hug as well – to the blonde's complete astonishment and elation. Saying their goodbyes once more, the Weasleys disappeared into the crowd.

Once they were gone, Hermione gave her best friend a hug.

"I'm so excited for you, Harry," she breathed, before pulling back from him. For the first time in a long while, he looked genuinely happy. "You can finally live with someone other than those horrid Dursleys! When did Dumbledore say it was alright for Sirius to come and take you?"

"Mid-summer," he replied cheerily, "I can't wait to see the looks on Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's faces when he shows up on their doorstep. He told me in the letter that we'd be living in his ancestor's house…" Harry trailed off, grabbing the parchment from his pocket to read the name off properly. "Grimmauld Place, I believe he's written here," he recited, nodding, before looking from Hermione to Draco, "I reckon this'll be the best summer of my life. See you at the end of the summer, Draco?" he turned to the boy in question hopefully.

The brunet smiled.

"Yeah, see you then," he agreed.

"We'll see you there, too, right, Hermione? At the World Cup?" asked Harry, turning to look at her as well.

She nodded, trying not to think about what else would happen at the World Cup this year.

"Of course… I'll come and say hi. I'll also write… to _both_ of you," she added, eyeing Draco and Harry severely, "_So you had better write back_."

The brunet rolled his eyes before smirking as Harry smiled lazily.

"We wouldn't _dream_ of disobeying you," Harry joked before rolling his stuff over to the Dursleys.

Hermione and Draco watched him speak gleefully to them. The expressions on their faces faded and gave way to something akin to horror, before Harry wheeled away from them and to their car. The pair smiled.

"That nasty smirk of yours," started Hermione, "better mean that you will, indeed, reply to my letters."

"As you already know, I have nothing to do in the summer time, so–oh wait! _Television_," Draco's smirk widened, "You never bloody let me finish _Risky Business_, so… that'll be the first thing I watch. Ooooh…" he said obscenely, "_Lana_…"

Hermione slapped his arm playfully before rolling her eyes and trying hard to hide a smile.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

He shrugged, and Hermione realized, with a jolt, that she might actually _miss_ talking to the testy brunet. She was writing to him, sure, but that was different than actually carrying a conversation with him face-to-face. On impulse, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Malfoy froze.

"Thank you for everything, Draco," she murmured against his chest, each word filled with gratitude. "Honestly, without you, Sirius would be on the run and everything would have been ruined. _Thank you_."

Hermione held on tightly until Draco relaxed and wrapped his arms around her as well, exhaling.

"You're welcome."

Still in the embrace, the blonde leaned on her tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before pulling away. She smiled at him, blushing slightly. The former-Gryffindor got her answer from that hug. She _would_ miss him. Ignoring Draco's utterly shocked expression, she waved and walked away to find Narcissa, Lucius, and Oberon.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Blaise watched the entire exchange, his eyes narrowed, before side-apparating away with his mother.

-xxx-

**End of Year 3**

-xxx-

* * *

**Lots of love to my amazing reviewers: **_Lupinara, Anonymous, HazelMalfoy18, The Last Poison Apple, allisath, AalisEliza, LittleMissHugALot, dreaming of rocketships, Raven-Thea, SideshowJazz1, Chat1, Clayssian, TheFreakWithTheWings, anidot90, Cristal90, ArtemisGoddess, Innocent Serenity, nathaliie, iluvaqt, I luv Writing67, fourthfireshadow, Twizard2013, Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini, mh21, ShadowKissedGallagherGirlLex ia, SashaStorm97, Bianca the crazy slytherin, DeviaLyanMalfoi, flaming-twilight, Somnus Verus, RingoHime, Calimocho, Subtle Resplendency, fanfictionswhore, Are101. _Just to let you all know, in case you didn't, the last chapter I posted was actually a previously revised version and did not have an important scene in it between Draco and Hermione that might shed light on the reason why he's a bit confused about what a telly is. Just a quick heads up, if you didn't get the email showing that I reposted it with the actual version with the scene. If you haven't yet read it, go ahead and do it now. It's towards the end of the chapter. Anyway, thank you everyone for reviewing :) I appreciate it so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a long one, too :) Up next: _**FOURTH YEAR**_. Two words for you: _**be prepared**_.

Please do _**favorite/alert/review!**_

* * *

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_**Twitter: mnadzz**_


	21. In The Air Tonight

**Chapter 21 – In The Air Tonight**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Malfoy Manor – 07/29/1994**_

"_Pardon_? Excuse me, Severus, but you can't possibly be talking about Hermione, _my_ Hermione. She would nev–"

"Narcissa, _please_," interjected the man in question, frowning deeply, "I understand that you are not prepared for this, especially with Lucius–"

"It is true then?" she interrupted, placing her cup of tea back in its plate with a definitive clang. "Lucius _is_ trying to help the… the Dark Lord return."

There was a sort of grim acceptance in her eyes as she stared at Snape. It was almost as though she'd been expecting this. A small pang of sympathy shot through the professor. He knew Narcissa did believe in pure-blood bigotry, but she had never supported the complete eradication of anyone with impure blood.

"Yes," said Snape quietly, "This is precisely the reason I came to you and not to Lucius. I know you are a bit more reasonable, I know you might be able to tolerate this until, perhaps… the appropriate time–"

"My daughter is cavorting with Harry Potter, a Weasley, and a _mud-blood_, Severus," she hissed, her blue eyes narrowing, "You can't _possibly_ think this is an appropriate thing for her to be doing at _all_!"

"Of course not," he replied swiftly, his black eyes flashing to hers, "I understand your… concerns. I just believe you should give her some time. If Lucius does succeed in revitalizing the Dark Lord, there is the possibility she may change her mind. The return of the Dark Lord may sway her decision."

"If she is indeed close friends with these three," Narcissa's expression darkened, "does this mean she was present when Potter helped release Black from the Azkaban charges?"

"No, she was not," the black-haired man lied smoothly, "I ensured she was in her dormitory at the time."

_There's no need to worry her._

Narcissa nodded before frowning and looking away.

"Please keep her safe when I can't, Severus," she murmured, swallowing, "The same goes for Oberon. As for Hermione's friends… we will deal with it when the Dark Lord returns…"

* * *

_**08/24/1994**_

_Dear Hermione,_

_Sorry for the late response. I know it's been almost two weeks since your last letter and that's because Sirius had been scrambling to clean Grimmauld Place, get my school supplies (we can barely go to Diagon Alley anymore, 'Mione, there are too many people asking too many questions and wanting autographs from both of us), and find a place to keep Sharpclaw until the renovations are over. To answer your question, yes, we did get rid of many of the horrible portraits in the house, but we had to demolish the walls to do it. Sirius and I just finished rebuilding with the Weasleys' help. Ron and Draco have come over a few times and they've been so freaked out by them, especially Sirius's mum. After Ron accidentally slammed his head against one of the walls (the entry way is really narrow), Sirius finally decided to get rid of them once and for all. It was really funny, though. He blacked out and Draco laughed so hard, he cried. I think Fred and George took pictures. I wish you'd been here to see that. Anyway, I've just finished packing for the World Cup tomorrow. I'm really excited to see it. Ron's told me the Bulgarians are the best, especially some guy by the name of Crum (I think that's how you spell the bloke's name) while the twins claim it's the Irish. Draco has been quiet about the entire thing, but he claims it's because he hasn't been feeling very good. I think he's keeping something from us. Oh, and Ginny's started to tease Ron about his love for Crum. I don't blame her. He's obsessed, Hermione. Bloody __obsessed__. _

_Write back soon. _

_Harry_

* * *

_**08/25/1994**_

One perk of being a Malfoy was the luxury of sleeping in. After months on the run during the war, Hermione found that sleep was one of the most treasured and most elusive things in the world. Thanks to Lucius's status within the ministry, Hermione was able to sleep in today, rather than get up and get ready much like she had on this same day all those years ago. There was no need for them to try and get a good spot to put up a tent or to even get good seats – everything was already reserved for them, they just needed to show up.

Just thinking about the match made her anxious. The blonde knew that Barty Crouch Jr. was on the loose, but what would happen now that Pettigrew was out of the picture? A sinking feeling found its way into the pit of her stomach and Hermione realized she really had no idea. The timeline would be drastically different now… What would happen?

_How will Voldemort be resurrected? No… __**who**__ will resurrect him?_

That was the question, wasn't it? _How_ would he come back this year?

Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, Hermione threw the covers off and walked over to the bathroom. Now wasn't the time to dwell on it. She'd figure out what to do later on. The blonde allowed excitement to fill her at the prospect of seeing Harry, Ron… and a certain brunet again.

* * *

_**The Burrow**_

Unable to sleep properly, Draco had spent a majority of the night restless. He was excited for the match and, dare he say it, a bit nervous to see Hermione again. After all that had transpired between them at King's Cross in June, he wasn't sure what to think or expect. Maybe he was looking too far into it – maybe their hug and… um… _everything else_… didn't mean anything.

_Or maybe it did…_

Feeling extremely awkward, Draco shifted in bed and checked the time. He had another fifteen minutes until Mrs. Weasley would come in to wake them. Shoving everything having to do with a certain ambiguous blonde out of his head, he closed his eyes.

The Dark Lord was supposed to return this year – at the end of the year, to be exact.

_But how?_

Perhaps Hermione had come up with–

Shaking his head, he pushed her out of his mind once again. It seemed everything he thought nowadays seemed to circle back to her – of what she might think, what she might be doing…

Draco sighed.

_I'm fucking pathetic._

* * *

_**A half hour later…**_

"So Percy's still in bed?" grumbled Fred, "Why can't _I_ bloody Apparate–"

"Because you're not of age yet and haven't passed your test!" snapped Mrs. Weasley, entirely too awake for how early it was in the morning. "By the way you two are going…"

Draco tuned everyone out as he turned to his porridge. Although he'd made fun of the Weasleys numerous times before for not having even a fraction of the amount of money his father had, he found himself admitting that Mrs. Weasley's cooking was mouthwateringly delicious – _so_ much better than most of the entrees the house elves made in Malfoy Manor.

Being half-awake the entire night had left him starving this morning, and he quickly dug in and devoured the entire thing as Mr. Weasley explained Apparition and Splinching to Harry.

Before the brunet knew it, they were out in the chilly morning air. The moon was still high in the sky as they walked away from the Burrow and to the Portkey.

After a difficult trek up a hill – which seemed to last forever – they finally made it to the place where the object was hidden.

"Alright," called out Arthur, looking around, "Try to find it. It'll look inconspicuous – something muggles wouldn't pick up."

"Over here, Arthur! We've got it!"

Looking up, Draco caught sight of two people trudging over to the group. One was very familiar – Cedric Diggory. He could only assume the other was his father. Feeling slightly uncomfortable as pleasantries were exchanged, the brunet tried hard not to think about the fact that the Hufflepuff's death would most likely mark the end of the Triwizard Tournament this year.

Moving almost mechanically, and trying hard not to stare at either of the two men, Draco held on to the boot as Arthur counted down. Being a Malfoy, he only knew the mechanics of the Portkey and the way it worked; he'd never had the good – or bad, depending on the way you looked at it – fortune of ever using one. He'd heard about how uncomfortable it was and found himself dreading the sensation.

Just as Mr. Weasley finished the countdown, Draco felt the almost painful sensation of being tugged by the navel as they all disappeared to the site of the Quidditch World Cup. It felt as though a very rough wind was buffeting all of them as colors swirled around them in a frenzy. Weasel King's and Potter's shoulders bumped into his own violently and he found himself wincing and wishing it would be over already. Just as the brunet started feeling sick, his feet slammed onto the ground and, buckling, he collapsed.

Landing hard on his back, Draco groaned.

_I will never willingly use a fucking Portkey again._

* * *

_**Quidditch Pitch**_

The seats were spectacular… if one was a Quidditch enthusiast, that is. However, Hermione was almost the complete opposite. She quite preferred studying or reading – both were much more productive and safer than flying and throwing heavy balls around. Studying and reading both _accomplished something_. The most one could accomplish while playing Quidditch would be getting beaten up and thrown in the Hospital Wing for a few weeks. Shuddering at the thought of being unable to do school work – being petrified in her second year was horrible enough and she wasn't even _conscious_ for it – Hermione shifted in her seat as she tried to think of a way to warn everyone about the Death Eater rally later tonight. Unable to come up with any good reason to leave Narcissa, Oberon, and Lucius, Hermione decided she'd just slink away as quietly as she could when the moment presented itself.

Although she had everything sorted out, anxiety continued to gnaw away at her as the game continued. Merlin, she hoped everything would go according to plan. The blonde really couldn't afford any proble–

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH, BUT IRELAND WINS!"

A loud bellow from Ludo Bagman – the announcer – over the loud speaker resounded at an almost earsplitting level throughout the arena, and the Irish were yelling, overjoyed. Hermione turned to look at the scoreboard: _BULGARIA – 160, IRELAND – 170. _

_It's over? _

She turned to her right to see Oberon scowling.

"I bet a hundred galleons on the Bulgarians–"

"You _bet_?!" she hissed, her eyes widening, "You're not allowed! You're underage–"

He just shrugged, smirking.

"I have my ways."

Her mouth dropped.

"But–"

"_Come_," hissed Lucius, his grey eyes furious as he interrupted their conversation before sweeping them out of the Minister's box. "I lost almost _1,000_ galleons because Krum couldn't wait to end the bloody game. I think it's time to go–"

"Where is the closest Apparition point again, Lucius?" asked Narcissa as she sourly surveyed the joyful Irish fans.

"It's almost a mile from our tent, to the East," he murmured, walking quickly, "Get out of here as quickly as possible–"

"Why?" piped up Hermione, slightly alarmed.

"It's our turn to take back the Wizarding world, Hermione," he replied, coldly brushing past a bunch of loud, Irish partiers.

Her eyes widened. She knew what _that_ meant.

She also knew that meant it was time.

"Could I watch?" she asked, trying to sound excited.

Lucius paused suddenly and turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised. He surveyed her for a moment before a ghost of a smirk found its way onto his face.

"Really?" he asked softly, "You're interested?"

Hermione plastered a smile on her face.

"Yes."

He looked at her for a moment before nodding ever so slightly.

"Go home, Narcissa. If Hermione wants to watch, she can."

"But Lucius–" Narcissa protested, her blue eyes widening in disbelief.

"Nothing will happen to her. I'll see to it," he said softly, "I promise. Now go."

Narcissa glanced at them both before nodding and sweeping Oberon away with her, despite his protests.

"Why can't _I_ stay–" whined 'Ron.

"Because you're not old enough," Hermione heard Narcissa reply curtly before the two were out of sight.

Taking a deep breath, the blonde turned to Lucius only to find him watching her.

"You never cease to make me proud," he remarked before whisking a now slightly red Hermione out of the stadium.

"Do you see that tree over there? _Stay there_," he hissed, pointing towards a tall tree – the tallest, from what she could tell – in the vicinity. "You may watch, as you requested, but nothing else. Do you understand?"

She nodded tersely, swallowing and trying to prepare herself.

"Of course. Will you come find me after?"

He gave her a quick nod before vanishing into the crowd.

Turning to the tree, she walked as quickly as possible towards it. When she finally made it, the blonde paused and appraised it. Why did it seem so familiar? A moment later, a sudden memory resurfaced…

_Everyone was pushing and shoving others to get out of the way as quickly as possible. The acrid stench of fire and smoke permeated the air and Hermione ran, Ron and Harry by her side, away from the dark figures making their way towards them._

_A quiet yelp sounded and Hermione saw Ron – he'd fallen on the ground. _

"_Tripped over a tree root," muttered the redhead angrily, dusting dirt off his clothes as Hermione and Harry helped him back to his feet._

"_Well… with feet that size, it would be hard not to," drawled an extremely familiar voice._

_The three turned sharply to find Draco Malfoy standing alone and leaning against a tree quite casually. It was a stark contrast to the screaming wizards and witches running around just meters away and Hermione's blood boiled. _

_After Ron cursed him quite descriptively, Malfoy stepped away from the tree, his eyes glittering._

"_Shouldn't you all be getting a move on? You wouldn't want __**her**__ to be spotted, now would you?"_

_The blond nodded at her, his pale eyes catching hers for a brief moment, before turning once more to stare at Ron and Harry._

_Hermione's anger increased._

"_And what does __**that**__ mean?" she replied defiantly._

"_Granger," he replied, as though the answer were obvious, "They're after __**Muggles**__. D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… they're coming this way and it'd give us all a laugh."_

Taking a second look at the tree, Hermione recognized it as the one Malfoy had stood by all those years ago. The Slytherin also realized he'd, in an indirect way, _helped_ them that night.

_I wonder why…_ she thought, frowning slightly before a sudden, loud blast was heard to her left.

Jumping, the blonde spun around to see flames. Another bang resounded and more flames erupted from tents. High pitched screams and wails were heard as more tents were set aflame and wizards and witches ran away to save themselves from the fire. After another tent was set on fire, Hermione could see them moving through the chaos –_ Death Eaters_. Swallowing hard and taking a few steps backward, she made for the other side of the campsite. She needed to find the Weasleys' tent and _fast_.

Hermione thanked Merlin she had a good enough memory to recall where they'd hitched their tent in her original fourth year and sprinted toward the area. The screams were getting louder and she tried hard to ignore them as she finally caught sight of their tent. It was shabbier than many of the others and looked exactly like it had all those years ago.

Not waiting, she exploded into the tent to see eleven pairs of astonished eyes flash her way.

"Hermione?" asked Harry, and Ron in unison.

"You guys have to run!" she yelled, breathing heavily, "There are people… people burning the tents on the other side!"

It grew deadly quiet until another loud bang resounded – much closer – and more screams erupted. Arthur and Sirius, who had also come to the World Cup, ran outside before coming back in, their eyes wide.

"We have to go! Hermione's right! There's no time to take anything, just a jacket!" yelled Sirius.

Everyone jumped into action.

"Hermione, why would you come and warn us?!"

"I can't very well not tell you guys, can I, Harry?" she panted before she ran out of the tent, everyone following in her wake.

They were much closer now. Close enough for Hermione to see them torturing muggles and hear their drunken laughs as they burned down more tents and created even more chaos.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" called out Arthur as Bill, Charlie, and Percy erupted from the tent entrance as well, wands out and ready. "Head for the forest and stick together! Sirius and I will come fetch you after we've sorted things out here! Now _go_!"

"C'mon," Fred called out, grabbing Ginny's hand and leading the way towards the trees. Following him, Hermione ran quickly, her wand out just in case. Harry, Ron, and Draco were just behind her.

Wizards and witches were running everywhere as wails and screams resounded throughout the night air. To Hermione, it was déjà vu… in the absolute _worst_ way.

As they made it to the tree, Hermione swerved and hid behind it.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" called out Harry, pausing amidst the running to move to her.

"You guys have to go on without me. I have to stay here–"

"But why?" asked Ron, frowning.

"My _father_, that's why," she hissed, before pushing the two towards Draco, who was standing a few feet away, his grey eyes unreadable. "You don't understand–"

"He's a part of this, isn't he?"

The question stopped her for a moment and the blonde turned to look at Harry, who was frowning at her, before nodding solemnly.

"You guys _have_ to go," she urged, "I'll be fine, I swear. I just wanted to warn you."

"But–"

"_GO_!" she yelled, pushing them again.

By this time, Fred, George, and Ginny had paused too and were watching the scene.

"Go before you guys get hurt… they'll be coming here…" she glanced over at the Death Eaters. Alarmed at how close they'd gotten, she pushed them once again toward the forest and this time, they listened.

Hiding behind the tree, Hermione watched on, horrified, as the Death Eaters tortured the muggles before Ministry workers flew in to stop them. Thinking back to her memory of this night, she frowned deeply.

_Why would Draco want to stay and watch this? Wasn't he frightened at all?_

As the Ministry workers began dueling, the Death Eaters seemed to realize they were outnumbered and quickly Disapparated away.

_They must have taken down the wards._

Before she knew it, the entire area was dark and quiet – the only sounds being the wind and distant screams from the forest behind her. It wasn't until footsteps sounded near her, that Hermione realized she wasn't alone. Her heart beating rapidly as fear surged through her veins, she walked slowly around the tree to hide from whoever had come close to her hiding spot. Her wand was out and at the ready as she listened keenly. Barely breathing, she could hear the footsteps retreating into the forest behind her. After a few moments, the blonde slowly peeked out from behind the tree to see a figure clad in all black walking quietly, and determinedly, into the darkness.

Frowning slightly, the blonde placed a silencing spell on herself, as well as a disillusionment charm, before following the figure.

Despite the good camouflage the disillusionment charm provided her in the dark, the former-Gryffindor made sure to hide behind as many trees as possible as the prowler continued into the blackness of the forest.

"Who's there?"

Hermione stopped in her tracks before quickly hiding behind the closest tree. Her heart raced as she recognized the voice.

_Harry._

The man's footsteps stopped.

Peeking out from behind the tree, she saw him enter a small clearing. Moonlight illuminated his face and she bit back a gasp.

"_MORSMORDRE!_" snarled Barty Crouch Jr., his wand pointed directly upward.

Bright green light filled the space as the spell zoomed into the sky before the Dark Mark took form. Screams echoed loudly throughout the forest and Barty Crouch Jr. laughed maniacally before starting back towards her.

Stifling a small gasp, Hermione whirled around and began to sprint away only to run into something tall and hard. Letting out a loud shriek and stumbling backwards, Hermione looked up to see the signature silver mask and black hood of a Death Eater, illuminated by a sudden flash of red light, before falling unconscious.

* * *

**Waaaah... I'm so sorry guys! **I'm not going to get into details, but the last month and a half has been extremely hectic for me and this chapter, for some odd reason, was so hard for me to write :( I apologize. The next update will be SOON AFTER THIS ONE, I PROMISE YOU. I promise. Thank you so much for your patience and your PMs. I really appreciate it. I'm even more grateful for all of the wonderful reviews I received :) You amazing people pushed me over the 500 mark: _Hermione's conscience, jfang465, The Last Poison Apple, kadavers315, 8. B. R. Adford, Are101, DestinyOrton, Dark-Supernatural-Angel, Twizard2013, HazelMalfoy18, Alenor, JuliaLestrange, SashaStorm97, aeireis, Eltanin Rose, littlegirlwarrior, brighteyes2889, insanegirl190, iluvaqt, jkl, Somnus Verus, DraMione394, Raven-Thea, Lexiful Sunshine, mh21, wtff-stfuu, Innocent Serenity, Hair Like Starlight, svowles1690, BW-Photography, baileyvicious, ShadowKissedGallagherGirlLexia, Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini, flaming-twilight, princesspay10, RingoHime, Untamed Goddess, A Phosphorescent Glow, rcampuzano, DeviaLyanMalfoi, Lupinara, Tell-Me-Tales, nathaliie, LittleMissHugALot, warrior-of-water, Claudie, Cristal90, Bianca the crazy slytherin, SlideshowJazz1, Calimocho. _Once again, THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!

_Question: Who do you think caught Hermione?_

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	22. Closer

**Chapter 22 – Closer**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Quidditch World Cup – 08/25/1994**_

Harry was staring at the skull and snake in the sky, frowning. Screams had erupted throughout the vicinity when it took form above the forest… but he had no idea why.

_What __**is**__ that?_

After Hermione had forced them away, the group had somehow gotten separated amidst the chaos. Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen. The trio could only hope Arthur or Sirius would find them all sooner or later. Before Harry could ask his two friends about the curious mark, a sharp shriek – much closer than the other screams – tore him from his thoughts. Thanks to the spell, the clearing was drenched with eerie, green light, allowing him to easily see the mysterious man walking toward the sound.

"Get _down_!" hissed Draco, his grey eyes glowing in the darkness.

Ignoring him, Harry rose slowly as the unknown man cast what looked like a _Stupefy_ at two dark figures in the forest.

"_HARRY_!" whispered Ron.

Ignoring him as well and yanking his arms out of Draco's grip, the Gryffindor slowly made his way toward the three strange people. Perhaps he could finally find out the identity of the strange man. Moments later, he heard two pairs of footsteps join him.

"Merlin, Potter. Are you _insane_?" said Draco quietly.

"I'm with Draco on this one, mate–"

"Shh!" he replied, holding his hand up for a moment to silence them. "Listen," he whispered, before taking cover behind a large tree.

"You bloody _imbecile_," spat a cruel voice that sounded vaguely familiar, "Are you out of your mind? Who do you think you are to–"

"–_Stupefy_ your daughter, Lucius?" finished the man, before letting out a dark chuckle. Surprise washed through the Boy-Who-Lived as Ron let out a quiet "_bloody hell_". Taking a chance and slowly looking out from behind the tree – despite Draco's silent protests – Harry caught sight of the two men before his green eyes flickered to a figure lying on the ground. Although it was dark, there was no mistaking the long, platinum-colored hair.

_Hermione._

Rage flooded his system as his eyes flashed furiously to the unknown man standing in front of Lucius Malfoy.

"_Don't_," whispered Draco, holding Harry back. "You could get us all killed. She'll be fine. She's just unconscious. We have to g–"

"I don't think you realize," began Lucius, his voice so terrifyingly cold that it caught the immediate attention of the trio, "the severity of what you just did."

In a flash, he had his wand out and pointed at the man.

"_Crucio_."

Harry's eyes widened as the man fell to the ground, releasing bloodcurdling scream after scream as his body contorted disturbingly. Draco sucked in a breath and looked away as Ron winced and cursed, closing his eyes and placing his hands over his ears to block out the horrifying sound.

The torture lasted for perhaps a minute until Lucius finally released the spell.

"You nasty _cretin_," he snarled maliciously, giving him a vicious kick to the gut. The man whimpered. "I don't think you realize how utterly _disposable_ you are. Realize your place. My daughter is and will _always_ be above you."

"Y-Yes, L-Lucius, I–"

"_Shut up_!" he sneered before pocketing his wand, bending down over Hermione's form, and picking her up gently – a stark contrast to his previous volatile behavior. After sending the man lying on the ground a frightening glare, Lucius vanished with a barely audible _pop_.

* * *

_**Malfoy Manor – 08/26/1994**_

Horror was slowly crawling through Hermione's veins like a thick poison. It was suffocating, intense, and brought along with it panic and terror. This couldn't be happening. _How could this possibly be happening?_ The Prophet headline blurred in front of her eyes as she fought to keep calm. A bitter taste found its way into her mouth and she swallowed, hoping to assuage it.

No such luck.

This was officially it then – the end. Her usefulness seemed to have reached its point and the year hadn't even bloody _started_ yet. Both of the articles on the front page were written by that absolute bitch Rita Skeeter. However, the nature of these two articles… that was something else entirely. One of them was familiar – it was almost _comforting_, in light of the other. '**SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP**' stared up at her, along with a moving picture of the Dark Mark. Feeling momentary disgust at the horrible accusations Skeeter was throwing around in her article, Hermione shook her head. Catching her – or killing her, either would do – was going to become her utmost priority this year. The second article, however, was toward the bottom of the page, and when Hermione first laid eyes on it, her blood turned cold. It took the blonde a few moments before she finally brought herself to read the small story, and despite the pathetic rumors Skeeter was trying to drum up, she came to realize that this wasn't a security mistake – or a mistake at all, actually. Hermione came to the chilling conclusion that this had been planned by the mastermind, himself – by _Voldemort_.

**BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN!**

_At precisely the same time as the rioting at the Quidditch World Cup,  
a breakout from Azkaban, the securest Wizarding prison in the world,  
was reported by Ministry authorities. Unclear as to how they escaped,  
inmates RODOLPHUS and RABASTAN LESTRANGE_ – _brothers, Death Eaters,  
and extreme supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – were reported  
missing late last night. Curious enough, Bellatrix Lestrange, famous Death Eater  
and wife of Rodolphus, did not join in the breakout with the two and is  
still held captive in the prison, albeit with extra security measures.  
Why would this be? Seeing as the Ministry has been mum as to the reason,  
I suspect the answers we seek may never come. Therefore,  
the question now is: how will the Ministry react?  
Are they going lax on security measures when it comes to Azkaban, now? It  
would not come as a surprise to me, considering their horrible security  
and cover-up attempts at the Quidditch World Cup (see above article). What  
should we expect now from the Ministry? No comment has been made on this  
recent development from Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, or any of his  
fellow Ministry workers. For more instances where the Ministry may have  
lied or covered up their unseemly practices, turn to page four._

* * *

_**The Burrow**_

Draco stared at the Prophet in shock as fear made its way up his spine. Merlin, things were changing _already_?

This was worse than reliving everything – _hundreds_ of times worse. Reliving everything meant you knew the ending – there was the slight comfort of no surprises. The way everything was going now, however… he and Hermione had no chance – _no fucking clue_ – how _anything_ was going to end. How the hell would they know?! Everything was different and they hadn't even _begun_ their fourth year yet!

_This isn't just about keeping Harry and Ron alive anymore_… Draco thought, his fear deepening, _it's also about keeping myself and Hermione alive, too._

His uncles, Rabastan and Rodolphus – the bastards they were – had escaped. The question was, why?

The brunet had no idea and he didn't even need to send Hermione an owl to know she was just as mystified as he. The only way You-Know-Who could achieve corporeal form was to have a follower as frightened and as devout as Pettigrew offer up not only his hand, but his blood, for his master. Draco hadn't heard the details about the process and how long it took Pettigrew to help the Dark Lord gain a semblance of a body before his full revitalization at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, but he knew it required blood drinking. As was the norm for the Dark Arts, it seemed – everything that went against the laws of nature involved some sort of horrid process. This was no exception. Had the Dark Lord already gained that form? Who had willingly performed the nasty process to give him one? Draco assumed it was Barty Crouch Jr. The man was already insane – he probably wouldn't even have known what was going on half the time.

Just the thought of it made the brunet want to vomit.

Taking a deep breath and shoving the Prophet away, Draco looked up to find Harry staring rigidly at another copy, his eyes wide. Ron was also watching the Boy-Who-Lived a little wearily.

"Harry–" he began.

"D'you guys want to help me pack up?" he interrupted, "Sirius said we're leaving at noon."

There was a strange edge to his voice and the two agreed immediately, getting up from the table and swiftly ascending the stairs to Ron's room.

"What's wrong, mate?" asked Ron, settling himself on the bed across from Harry's.

Draco sat down next to Weasel King, covertly studying the raven-haired man's face.

"There's… there's something I haven't told either of you," he began. His right hand moved hesitantly to the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead and Harry frowned, rubbing it slightly. "I–"

As if struck by lightning, Draco realized what he was about to say. Nervous anticipation flooded his system so quickly he could feel his body almost start to shake.

"It's burning again, isn't it?" he whispered, his grey eyes flickering to Potter's scar. "Your scar – it's hurting."

Hermione had told him about this – about the visions. It had all started at this same time close to eight years ago in their original fourth year. Harry seemed to get prophetic visions on what the Dark Lord was doing – what he was trying to accomplish. Many times during the war, the visions had helped the trio prepare and plan, especially when it came down to finding the horcruxes. This time it would be no different. Excitement had him on edge – this could really help him and Hermione figure out their next move. Their future was filled with darkness from this point forward – all bets were now officially off. He didn't know about Hermione, but he would welcome the visions with open arms if it meant keeping them all alive.

Harry nodded solemnly as Ron's mouth dropped. Seemingly realizing something, the redhead suddenly turned pale as his blue eyes widened.

"Harry… the last time your scar hurt, it was because You-Know-Who was in Hogwarts… D'you think that means he was… was _there_? Near Grimmauld Place?"

Harry shook his head quickly.

"I doubt that, Ron. You know the house is protected by the Fidelius Charm. I was just… it was like I was dreaming about him. He was there with…" he trailed off suddenly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"With who?" ventured Draco, feeling a sense of dread.

"_Hermione's father_," he said quietly, his eyes flashing between the brunet and redhead.

Draco swallowed roughly.

_Fuck._

"Lucius Malfoy… he was there along with this other man and… and I think Voldemort was there. I'm not sure. I couldn't see him there… I just _knew_ he was. I could feel his presence. The other man and Lucius were muttering about Azkaban. I think they organized the break-out with the Lestrange brothers somehow."

Turning as pale as Ron, Draco was speechless. What the hell was his father doing?

_Is he allowing the Dark Lord to drink–?_

Shuddering at the mental image, the brunet forced that thought out of his mind. His father may have been a lot of things during the Dark Lord's resurgence, but he wasn't _that_ mental.

The answer came to him so suddenly it nearly took his breath away. This option seemed to answer almost every question he had right now and, in light of the fact that Pettigrew was out of the picture for good, it seemed like the most logical alternative to the drastic change of events that had occurred.

_They're trying something else… You-Know-Who is coming back to life in a different way._

* * *

_**King's Cross – 09/01/1994**_

He nodded at her. _He nodded at her_. Was that all the recognition he could give her? Was that it? What was wrong with him?!

_No matter_, Hermione thought, shoving the shock and hurt she felt at Blaise's dismissal to the back of her mind, _he can't avoid me forever._

Getting onto the train after waving at Narcissa and Lucius – the two seemed to be at odds _once again_ over the fact that Lucius found himself 'incapable of keeping her safe' at the World Cup – she crossed her arms over her chest. Following Oberon and Blaise who, to her extreme surprise, were actually getting along quite well, she slid into a compartment with them both.

Someone had already taken up residence in the small booth, and a smile flitted across her face when she caught sight of Daphne – they hadn't spoken in ages.

She was about to say hello when the girl quickly moved to occupy the seat next to Blaise.

_Her_ seat.

Hermione's mouth snapped shut audibly as she turned to sit down across from the two and next to Oberon, who was loudly conversing about the benefits of schooling at Durmstrang, rather than Hogwarts. Although she seemed to be staring outside the window blankly, her mind was concentrated firmly on her two friends. Was it her imagination, or was Daphne being almost… promiscuous? Forward? A combination of both? The way she was hanging onto Blaise, her arm curled around his… it was very odd. She'd never acted like _that_ before. The thought worried and angered her. How could she have changed so quickly? Sure, they hadn't talked in awhile, but still…

Glancing at the two, her eyes connected with Blaise's for a split second. She expected a wink, maybe even a quick smile, but all she received was a blank, unforgiving glare. Hermione took a deep breath as anger flooded her system. He had no reason to act like this – to so blatantly ignore her, to be rude, to be _callous_. When he turned to look back at 'Ron, a smug smirk settled firmly on his lips.

He was being _purposefully_ cruel. Her anger increased and she clenched her hands.

The door opened unexpectedly and Pansy and another girl – Astoria Greengrass, Hermione realized – entered.

Parkinson smiled at Blaise and Daphne – she even bloody smiled at _Oberon_ – before turning to give Hermione a sneer. Only Hermione. _Only her_.

That was the breaking point.

"Got a problem, Parkinson?" she snapped, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually," she shot back, her violet eyes glinting, "I have none… save _you_."

Blood rushed to Hermione's face as she watched the pug regard her smugly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the blonde realized she really shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't be acting this petty. She was above this, wasn't she? However, her hatred for the pug was overshadowing every warning in her head. The former-Gryffindor briefly entertained the thought of ripping her hair out of her scalp before closing her eyes.

_Calm down._

Taking a deep breath, Hermione glared at her before standing up and waving her wand. Her bag immediately flew to her side, and with that, she turned and stalked out of the compartment.

"This is precisely the reason I begged the Sorting Hat to _not_ place me in Slytherin," she called out frostily, "Because I knew _you'd_ bloody be in it!"

With that, she turned and slammed the compartment door behind her – smugly registering the shocked expressions of nearly everyone, except Oberon – before spinning around and knocking into someone.

There was a yelp as Hermione tried to steady herself and, looking up, she caught sight of Draco nearly avoiding her trunk as it swerved around her. Registering that his hands were on her shoulders, she waved her wand again, stilling the ambitious trunk.

"Sorry," she gave him an unsure smile, "It seems my trunk has a mind of its own."

"I believe it takes after its owner," he teased, glaring at it before looking back at Hermione.

After a few moments of staring, a new voice cut in.

"Are you two done staring at each other longingly yet?" yelled Ron belligerently.

Draco and Hermione both jumped and, at that same moment, seemed to realize the brunet's hands were still resting firmly on her shoulders. He retracted them quickly, his face turning blank, as Hermione fought to keep down a blush. Awkward embarrassment was nearly tangible in the air and the blonde's eyes flickered from Draco to Ron – who looked slightly disgusted – and then Harry. The Boy Who Lived who was frowning as he looked carefully between the two.

Mortification washed through Hermione when Ginny and Neville appeared as well. The blonde's only consolation was that Neville seemed more embarrassed than she.

"Shut up, Ron," warned Ginny, giving him a glare. "You're being a prat."

The man in question gaped at her before spluttering nonsensical words. Ignoring him, she rolled her eyes. Opening a compartment door and sliding in, Neville right behind her, she waited for everyone else to do the same.

When no one moved, she sighed.

"Either you all can stand there, holding up an entire line of students who I'm sure are becoming angry at the wait, _or_ you can all sit down."

The four avoided each other's eyes as they filed in.

* * *

_**The Great Hall**_

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" proclaimed Dumbledore, a smile, which contrasted sharply with the tense atmosphere of the hall, lighting up his face. "This is Professor Moody!"

Hermione stared unflinchingly at who she assumed was Barty Crouch Jr. Hate boiled up inside her and she gripped her spoon tightly and clenched her jaw. Would it be wrong of her to just hex him right here and right now?

_Yes_, her mind automatically answered. For… what if she was wrong? What if this was actually _Moody_ and _not_ Barty Crouch Jr.? Having only a very vague idea of the future was killing her. Voldemort had quite obviously come up with another plan this year. What that plan entailed… well… that was another story completely. On top of this, who knew what trickery the fairy had in store for her and Draco?

_Don't forget the horcruxes…_

The thought slipped through her mind and the blonde automatically thought to the Gaunt ring. It was the perfect one to destroy. She had the Basilisk fangs, too… she'd brought them with her. Frankly, Hermione rarely let them out of her sight. All she needed now was a way to extricate the venom from the fang itself – if possible – so no more trips to the Chamber of Secrets would be needed, as well as a copy of the tome, _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. The instructions for creating and destroying a horcrux were so explicitly written within it that she'd know the exact amount of venom needed to destroy one.

There were only two problems. One, she had no idea where the Gaunts had lived. Hermione had always decided it would be best to apparate there and destroy it. Honestly speaking, it was the only viable way, anyway. However, not knowing the exact location was going to prove problematic, especially since Apparition required knowledge of it.

Secondly, _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ was holed up in one of the worst places possible – the Headmaster's office.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued, clearing his throat to capture the attention of the students once more, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months… an event that has not been held in over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform all of you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

Noise erupted throughout the hall as the news settled in. Hermione, however, remained silent. Staring at her headmaster, she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The only way to destroy the Gaunt ring… the only way to do _any_ of it…

The blonde swallowed hard.

_I have to break into Dumbledore's office._

* * *

**Lots of hugs and kisses to my amazing reviewers: **_Snow rose, Artemis Of The Golden Distaff, Heart Nimbus, Ava, Hermione's conscience, HazelMalfoy18, slayerdiaries, Kat, Dayannight, Loveable Leo, wintersalad, LiesTemptHer, LittleMissHugALot, SideshowJazz1, Gril4Life, Squidchan (x4), princesspay10, Jewels, Icelynne, Guest, icarus enjoyed the view, JuliaLestrange, SashaStorm97, Cristal90, fanfictionswhore, Lupinara, ManhattanStreetLights, mh21, WordsLikeWind, Hair Like Starlight, jfang465, iceflight12787, flaming-twilight, Bianca the crazy slytherin, RingoHime, ShadowKissedGallagherGirlLexia, Untamed Goddess. _You guys are so amazing! Anyway, I usually update on weekends, but I was too busy to post this until today. Happy Monday, I guess? :P

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	23. Sowing the Seeds

**Chapter 23 – Sowing the Seeds**

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Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

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_**Hagrid's Hut – 09/02/1994**_

"Raise them? _Raise_ them? You're joking, right?" said a cruel voice.

Draco never thought he'd say this, but Blaise had become one hell of an annoying idiot.

"No," snapped a very irritated, defiant, feminine voice, "he's not. Just because you're too terrified of them, doesn't mean you have the right to be malicious, Zabini."

The brunet and the rest of the class eyed them both. Hermione and Blaise had been going at it since breakfast and their fighting was over the most trivial of things. As the first day of classes wore on, the bickering had become more and more extreme. It was only their second block of the day, and yet all hell was ready to break loose. Draco, Ron, and Harry all exchanged glances as Blaise's face darkened.

"I have a right to be concerned, _Malfoy_," shot back the Italian, his lips curling into a sneer, "Those are bloody _Blast-Ended Skrewts_. Anyway, why do I even bother? I know you care for all manner of _pathetic_ creatures."

The temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees as Blaise's dark eyes flickered over to the trio. Draco stiffened as everyone turned to look at them speculatively. The brunet didn't miss the knowing, hateful glance the dark-skinned Slytherin sent him – more so than Ron or Harry. Hagrid seemed unable to say anything as he watched the confrontation, his eyes wide.

"What are you insinuating, _Zabini_?" Hermione replied frigidly as Harry narrowed his eyes in anger at the Italian.

A cold smile appeared on his face – one that seemed odd… very odd. Draco had never seen Blaise act like this before. He'd never been this, well… brutal.

"Why don't you ask your three boyfriends?" he replied, his smile increasing as the tension around them skyrocketed.

"Alrigh'," interfered Hagrid sternly as whispers rippled through the rest of the class, "Tha's enough unless–"

Only then did Draco register the two struggling next to him. Turning quickly, he caught sight of Harry being thrown off Ron and cursing under his breath as the redhead brandished his wand.

"RON–"

"_EAT SLUGS_, ZABINI!" he roared.

A few people yelped and leapt out of the way as the curse soared across the clearing and hit the surprised Slytherin square in the chest.

"Damn it, Ron," hissed Draco, grimacing as the redhead began to bellow incomprehensibly at the dark-skinned Slytherin. This was one of the times when he wished he didn't associate with the temperamental redhead.

"HA!" Weasel yelled as Blaise coughed up his first slug, the entire class erupting in laughter as a result. "WE ARE NOT HER BOYFRIENDS!"

"Calm the bloody hell down, Ron!" yelled Draco and Harry. The brunet watched in relief as the Boy-Who-Lived quickly grabbed the wand from the redhead's hand.

After ensuring Weasley wouldn't do anything to land them in even more trouble, the brunet turned to look at Blaise. By this time, Hagrid had grabbed a bucket, allowing Zabini to heave into it.

Pansy was screeching incoherently at the half-giant, blaming the entire situation on him. It wasn't until she stomped over to Blaise that Draco caught sight of Hermione sitting next to the dark-skinned Slytherin as well. Anger washed through him when he realized she was trying to _help_ him. After everything his ex-friend had said, _she was trying to take care of him_.

Clenching his hands, he looked away and to Ron and Harry. The raven-haired boy was holding Ron's wand and grinning at the scene while the redhead fell to the ground, guffawing with a few other Gryffindors.

"CLASS DISMISSED!" shouted Hagrid as he and Hermione helped Blaise up from the ground and dragged him towards the Hut, despite his weak protests.

Still angry, Draco slung his bag over his shoulder and stalked towards the castle.

"YOU'RE JUST LETTING WEASLEY OFF?!" shrieked Pansy incredulously.

Draco was just within earshot to hear Hagrid reluctantly call out detention for Blaise, Hermione, and Ron, before tuning everyone out and squashing the rage – and another emotion he'd rather not identify – slowly building inside him.

* * *

_**Classroom 7A **_

The curious stares seemed to be never-ending since her squabble with Blaise just hours before. News had travelled fast, and now it looked like the entire school thought she was some kind of slag. The looks she'd been getting, as well as the whispers, had done a wonderful job of incensing her. Most of her House was shunning her, and as a result, Hermione decided to spend as much time as possible away from them and in the library.

Now, however, she was sitting in class and listening intently to Professor Vector as she overviewed the history and intent of Arithmancy – which was _much_ more probable than Divination, might she add – and jumped straight into Destiny Numbers. Although Hermione had read and re-read most of her tomes for this year, she still took detailed notes, her focus rarely leaving Vector.

A nudge to her side not only alerted her to Draco's presence beside her, but also to the fact that she was almost out of her chair. Blood rushed to her face as she leaned back and settled properly onto her seat.

"You looked like you were trying to bloody _inhale_ the knowledge," sniggered the brunet quietly beside her. "I thought I would snap you back to reality before you fell off your stool."

"I just wanted to write sufficient notes–" breathed Hermione irritably.

"_Sufficient notes_?" whispered Draco, his grey eyes widening with disbelief, "Granger, you do realize you've already taken this class before, right? Why the fuck would you need more notes? I'm sure you had the entire book memorized years ago–"

Gritting her teeth, partly from embarrassment, the blonde replied, "There's nothing wrong with ensuring I've got all the information I need…"

Trailing off when her eyes flickered to his blank piece of parchment, Hermione inhaled sharply.

"You didn't take notes?!" she hissed. Incredulousness washed over her as the smirk vanished from his face. "And you're completely _calm_ about this?! Merlin, have Harry and Ron impacted you _this_ _much_–"

"Miss Malfoy and Mister Granger!"

Jumping, Hermione turned away from Draco, who was now watching her with thinly veiled annoyance, and looked into the sharp eyes of her professor. Her eyes flickered around the room to find everyone – mostly Ravenclaws – staring at them impatiently. Blushing hard, the blonde ducked her head.

"I-I'm sorry, Professor," she said quietly, "It won't happen again."

"See to it that it doesn't," she replied, glaring at the two of them before continuing on with her lecture.

Determined to ignore Draco, who seemed to enjoy mocking her dedication to schoolwork, Hermione focused her attention once more on Vector. It was only the first day, for Merlin's sake! She shouldn't be landing herself in trouble like this!

Not long after her humiliating outburst, a small note of parchment was slipped under her hand. Knowing it was from the instigating prat sitting next to her, Hermione forced herself not to look at it. However, the longer she abstained, the more her curiosity grew. Feeling like she was going to explode, the blonde finally looked down.

_Not all of us need to write down completely unnecessary  
notes, Granger. Some of us understand that we're  
repeating history and, therefore, have no need to pay  
attention in class or attempt to learn. Some of us realize  
most of the content will be __bloody easy__ and could care less  
about taking notes… unlike others._

Anger flowed through her veins and, looking back up, the blonde glanced at the former-Slytherin. He was leaning on his left hand, his elbow propped against the table, completely bored. However, when he caught her glare, his lips promptly curled into a smug, self-satisfied smirk.

Hermione's mouth twitched with aggravation before she grabbed her quill and wrote furiously onto the now blank parchment.

_Go to hell, Malfoy. At least some of us  
appreciate the art of learning and aren't  
__lazy, arrogant males__ with nothing better  
to do than wank off._

_Ha, _Hermione thought, finishing the crude note – at least, crude for her taste – and practically shoving it in Malfoy's face.

Observing him read it, the blonde got the pleasure of watching his eyes widen in disbelief before the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

Packing up her things, she was about to head off when he grabbed her by the arm.

"I'm going to assume from this note," he began slowly, a cat-like grin forming on his face, "That you have quite a lot of experi–"

Knowing he was going to continue with something lewd and vulgar, the blonde brandished her wand and pointed it at his face.

"_Lingua Evanescet_," she retorted, watching as his eyes widened and he tried to speak.

Giving up, his face contorted furiously and he pointed to his mouth. A few students were watching with poorly-veiled curiosity, but Hermione could have cared less. Knowing Malfoy, she assumed he was mouthing something along the lines of '_what the fuck did you do to me!?_'

Smirking, she threw her bag over her shoulder and began to walk away, knowing he would follow her.

"It was a simple spell, Granger," she said cheerily, deciding immediately that she would use it again later, if needed. "It simply vanished your tongue. I would have considered telling you to wash it out after what I'm sure would have been a very rude statement, but I knew this would have worked much better. And what do you know," she spun around and sent him a pleased smile as his lips bowed into a heated frown and his grey eyes darkened, "it did."

* * *

_**Room of Requirement**_

Having a free period before dinner, Hermione was left with the extremely rude brunet sitting across from her in the Room of Requirement. He was glaring at her – had been, actually, for the past thirty-six minutes – and it hadn't bothered her for awhile. He was sitting in an armchair, slumped against the seat, his arms crossed over his chest. At this angle, his face was shadowed. The only thing she could see were his pale eyes glaring at her.

Thankfully, Vector hadn't given them any homework and she found herself with only a small amount of Herbology. It was an essay – like most of her homework became as they grew older – but she finished it in record time and had nothing left to do except stare right back at the man in front of her.

He had made no move to do anything, not even their Herbology homework, so she assumed he was sitting and fuming over her victory. Although Hermione would have been content to keep him in this state for the rest of the day – maybe even the rest of his life – she knew she had to relieve him of it sometime.

Sighing, she brought out her wand and waved it, releasing the spell.

"Draco," she began, placing her wand to the side, "you know how much I hate your little comments–"

"Do they bother you?"

"Of course," she replied immediately, frowning.

"Then _no_, I won't stop," he snapped petulantly.

"Then don't pout like a child when you find yourself without a tongue for a majority of the time," she shot back in irritation.

He eyed her for a moment before straightening and shrugging.

"Who said I won't counter it and have _you_ tongue-less? I'm sure most of Hogwarts would thank me for that."

She shot him a glare.

"Do your homework, Malfoy."

"How dominant of you."

"I hate you."

"Your kiss on my cheek says otherwise," he shot back slyly.

It took all of Hermione's restraint to force the blood creeping up her body back down. _She would not blush. _There was _nothing_ to blush about!

"Don't hurt yourself," added Draco smugly, a knowing smirk curling his lips, "I can tell you're practically shitting bricks to keep yourself from blushing."

"I kiss all my friends," she hissed angrily, her eyes snapping to the open Herbology tome on her lap. Deciding to pay attention to organizing her materials, she avoided his eyes and began to pack up. "I've kissed Harry, Ron–"

"Are you confirming my statement earlier before we ended up in this mess, then?" asked Draco suddenly, curiosity flashing through his eyes. At her puzzled look, he continued. "In the forest those four years ago, when we were going to get the fairy dust… You've been with Harry _and_ Weasel?"

She couldn't restrain it any more… the blood flew to her face so quickly she could feel the heat emanating from her skin. Merlin, it had become _stifling_ in here.

"N-No," she spluttered, "I meant on the _cheek_, Malfoy! Haven't you ever kissed oh, I don't know, _Pansy_ on the cheek?"

It was his turn to look puzzled.

"Why would I?"

"Aren't you two friends or lovers or something of that sort?" she hedged, her face heating up even more.

"_Used_ to be," he corrected, "We're just friends now, and _no_, I wouldn't. It's a disgustingly romantic sentiment. Do I look like the kind of bloke that would go around kissing women and wooing them with chocolates and flowers?" he raised an eyebrow, his eyes clearly conveying how mental he thought she was.

"Well, I…" trailing off as the mental picture of a lovey-dovey Draco Malfoy flew into her mind, Hermione burst out laughing. "Oh gods, _no_!"

Draco nodded, satisfied.

"Glad to know this life-switch-alternate-dimension-thing hasn't made you lose that big brain of yours, Granger."

"You… _with_ _flowers_!" she gasped, her laughter increasing.

"Okay, enough," he called out, mild irritation coloring his voice. Despite that however, she caught sight of him smile slightly. "I still want my question answered."

That snapped her out of it and she stilled almost immediately. Hermione had hoped he'd forgotten. Apparently not.

"In all seriousness though," he began, a disgusted look on his face, "why did you date _Weasel_? I know this sounds bloody ridiculous coming from me… but wouldn't Potter be the logical choice? Weasley always seemed to dislike you in our earlier years."

Raising an eyebrow, Hermione was surprised.

_He'd paid attention that much?_

Taking a breath, she sat up straight and eyed him shrewdly.

"What makes you think I'm suddenly going to spill my life story to you, Draco? It's not like you've been much nicer to me over the years. In fact, you're rarely nice at all. Always in a bloody foul mood, you are."

"I'd like to think we're… comrades," he drawled slowly, shrugging, "There are some things you can't go through without becoming civil to one another, I suppose. At least, that's how I felt when the War started. I'd spent a long time being arrogant and bossy to Crabbe and Goyle – I thought myself above them. However, after all we'd been through, I realized they were the ones I could actually count on in the end. Blaise and Pansy as well."

Hermione nodded, understanding immediately. After all, hadn't that been how she, Harry, and Ron had come to be friends originally? They'd saved her from that foul troll in her first year, and ever since then, the three had become almost inseparable. Thinking back to these last few years, Hermione realized her friendship with the redhead and Boy-Who-Lived had been kindled in the same way. After the Chamber of Secrets, they'd all become closer – even more so after freeing Sirius.

"Is that your sneaky way of saying we're friends, Malfoy?" she queried, arching an eyebrow.

"Perhaps," he said shortly, "Answer the question, Hermione."

Taking another deep breath, the blonde looked down and continued packing.

"You're not entirely wrong," she said quietly, "I did like Harry first. He had always been much kinder to me than Ron. He seemed to… understand me more, I guess. He knew the way I operated and never taunted or teased me about it. Our friendship was always so easy… I thought, perhaps, he'd notice me. It wasn't until the beginning of our fourth year that I began to see Ron in a different light, and I think that was mainly due to the fact that Harry never indicated any type of interest other than purely platonic. After the Yule Ball, I decided that Ron was the one."

"So you settled," he said. It wasn't a question, more like a statement of fact.

"It's not _'settling'_ if you love the person, Malfoy," she snapped, looking up immediately and bristling. "Why must you always ruin everything?"

"Your description of events sounds a lot like settling to me, Granger," he replied smoothly, his grey eyes unreadable. "Harry didn't want you, so you _settled_ for Weasel. Simple."

"I love _Ron_," she said flatly, glaring. "It's only _'settling'_ if you want someone else. My love for Harry is in merely a platonic sense now. Has been for years."

"I believe you've fucking deluded yourself into _thinking_ your love for Weasley is anything but settling," he retorted.

"You're being cruel."

"The truth is cruel."

"Everyone thinks we're _perfect_ together–"

Draco let out a bark of laughter.

"_Everyone_, eh?"

"Yes, _everyone_," she growled, her hands clenching.

"Take a step back and think with that head of yours, Hermione," the brunet rolled his eyes, as though the answer were obvious. Her anger increased. "Can anyone tell either of you differently? The only people whose opinions you've asked or heard are those whom you've grown up with over the years. Potter, The Family of Weasels, your mutual friends… they're biased. You need a third person's point of view."

"Oh, that's _rich_," she replied with fury, shoving her parchment into her bag roughly. Her anger was increasing with every word he said, although she was unsure why. "What are you suggesting, huh? That _you're_ that unbiased person?"

"Naturally," he smirked, "I know both of you, but not well enough to be biased about anything. I wouldn't lie about something as hilariously obvious as _this_."

"I thought you and Ron were friends now," she shot back, her eyes now firmly fixed on his. "That's what I've gathered, at least."

"Of course… that's why I'm giving you this piece of advice. It's because I'm officially acquainted – however much I may not want to be – with Weasel King, and I believe I'm doing you a favor. Like I said before… we're comrades now. Think of this as a friendly, insightful, _unbiased_, and true suggestion."

_Comrades my arse, _Hermione thought sourly_, The way he's going, we'll be enemies by the end of dinner._

Although every instinct in her body told her not to ask what the suggestion was, a part of her wanted to know. Damn her curiosity.

"And what would that be?" she asked petulantly.

"When we do return home," his face had become serious now, and Hermione frowned in response. "I don't think you should marry him in the future, Granger. Your incompatibility level is magnificently high, you've already indirectly stated you're basically settling for him, and both you and the Weasel would end up unhappy in the long run."

It was exactly what she thought – no, _knew_ – he'd say, and however much she wished to deny it, his words had struck a chord within her. No one had ever questioned her relationship with Ron. Even during his relationship with Lavender in their sixth year, she'd still believed he was the one. Everyone had, even if they hadn't voiced the thought. She had entertained ideas of perhaps, growing old with someone other than him during that time, but her mind had always come up blank when envisioning who that other person would be. Ron was the one. Even then. Taking a deep breath, the blonde decided to disregard the comment. She loved Ron. She really did. And no one, especially not _Draco bloody Malfoy_, would tell her otherwise.

"And who are _you_," Hermione fumed, crossing her arms over her chest, "to tell me how to live my life?"

"Take this suggestion from someone who knows both of your personalities well enough to make an educated assumption about your compatibility… you wouldn't be good together." His face contorted suddenly into one of disgust. "Besides, aren't you one of those women who want the romantic, lovey-dovey, tall, dark-skinned stranger or something idiotic like that?"

Despite how much she tried not to, her lips curved upward a fraction.

"Other girls, yes. Not so much me, though. I was never one for the extremely romantic novels. A few here and there – the classics mainly – were what I read."

"_Of course_ you don't read those books, Granger," he said in a patronizing manner, rolling his eyes. "Regardless, don't you want someone who at least shares your freakish love for books – or maybe an eighth of that love, because honestly, it's strange – or a man who's intelligent? Weasel possesses neither, and those are two things you cherish above all–"

Just then, the bell signaling the end of the last block for the day, and the beginning of dinner, resounded throughout the castle.

Hermione was staring unseeingly at Draco now, frowning when she realized he could be right. Those were two things Ron would never understand – he was never quite intelligent and had always hated the prospect of reading to complete schoolwork… but… did it really matter? Ron had grown to love those qualities about her. It didn't matter if she couldn't debate with him about topics or talk to him about a recent book she'd read. He loved her for who she was. Wasn't that what all those fluffy romance novels stressed anyway? A bloke who loved everything about the heroine? Besides, finding the 'perfect man' was just a fantasy. If she continued to think that way, she'd end up alone eventually. Such a man didn't exist. Besides, opposites attracted one another, right?

No, Draco was _wrong_. Ron was perfect for her.

Hermione was jolted out of her thoughts when the brunet rose from his seat across from her. Their eyes connected and he simply gave her a knowing look before turning and grabbing his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder, and heading towards the door.

"You're wrong."

He paused.

"Ron is the one for me. I know he is."

Turning, he just shrugged noncommittally, his grey eyes indifferent.

"Do whatever you want, Hermione," he muttered, "I'm just offering you my opinion. It's your decision whether to listen and take my advice or disregard it."

And with that, the brunet swept out of the room. Hermione stared at where he'd been for a few moments before grabbing her bag and following him.

Catching up with the Gryffindor, they continued talking like usual. However, no matter how much she told herself she was confident in her decision, Hermione couldn't deny the small seed of doubt Draco had planted, and it disturbed her.

* * *

_**Outside the Great Hall**_

Harry hated him. He was a bully with a serious superiority complex. How Hermione, of all people, had come to have a good friendship with the cruel Slytherin was beyond him. She was kind, caring, unprejudiced, and smart… so unlike the rest of her House. Although she had her moments – her bossy personality and desire to please everyone and know everything being two of those slightly irritating traits – Harry thought the good far outweighed the other aspects of her character. Besides, he had come to grow accustomed to her personality. His mind flew back to the current bane of his existence: Zabini. Scowling, the raven-haired Gryffindor turned a corner – Ron right by his side – to get in line for dinner.

"Bloody hell this is dumb! A load of homework from that mental bat Trelawney for no good reason!" complained Ron. "I reckon it'll take all weekend to complete–"

Harry nodded his agreement just as a familiar voice called out to the two.

Turning, the Boy-Who-Lived and Ron caught sight of Hermione and Draco pushing through the crowd to get to them. Just as it thinned out a bit and they reached the two, loud laughter was heard off to their left. Harry glanced over to find his least favorite people laughing over a Prophet article.

"Oi! _Ronald_!" taunted Blaise, his dark eyes flashing with malice, "Glanced at the Prophet yet, have you?"

"No," said Ron flatly, turning to walk away.

"Well, then I'll take it upon myself to let you know your father isn't even worthy of having his name spelled correctly," he sneered at the group – no one missed his lingering gaze on Hermione, who stared back balefully – before turning back to the article. Ron had paused and instinctively, Harry knew this was going to turn into a bad situation. Making a show of straightening it out and searching for the article – purely for the amusement of Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle, – Zabini continued. "It says here that '_the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of __**Arnold Weasley**__, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office._'"

Looking up from the paper, a vile smirk curled his lips as his cronies laughed. Harry felt anger surge through him.

"Get out of here, Blaise," threatened Hermione, stepping towards him and grabbing the newspaper swiftly out of his hands. "No one wants to hear you make a fool of yourself."

"No one asked you, _blood-traitor_," he snarled, turning on her so quickly that she took a step back.

"_Excuse_–"

"Shut up, Zabini," said a cold voice, "You've made your point. Now shut up."

Harry held Ron back as Draco stepped right in front of Hermione and in the dark-skinned Slytherin's personal space, a frightening look on his face.

"Ron, no," said Harry, holding him back as he watched the tension-filled confrontation. "You'll just get in more trouble. He's a prat… no one cares what he thinks."

"Can't handle this yourself, Hermione?" taunted Blaise, "You have to get one of your three boyfriends to do it for you?"

"Shut up both of you!" Hermione growled, pushing herself between the two irate wizards. "This is enough–"

"Bugger off, Zabini," said Harry, his emerald eyes still glued to the scene.

"Make me… no, make _us_, Potty," goaded the Italian, a smirk on his face as a grinning Crabbe and Goyle joined either side of him.

"NO!" yelled Hermione, pushing them apart as Draco's face contorted fiercely and he moved forward, "You will _not_ fight, I will _not_ allow it! Do you even know how many school rules you'll be breaking for the _second_ time today?!"

"LET ME GO, HARRY!" yelled Ron at the same time, trying in vain to launch himself at Zabini.

Not a moment later, most everyone's wand was drawn.

"Do not make me petrify both of you," warned Hermione, her eyes darting between the two.

Harry prayed this would end soon… his grip on Ron was going slack…

_Hurry up, Hermione!_

By this time, most everyone was watching the confrontation avidly.

After a few more moments of heated staring, Draco and Zabini finally moved away from each other. Just as Harry thought they were in the clear, a bright flash of light zoomed towards him and he was blown off Ron. Still blind with anger, the redhead launched himself at Zabini and all hell broke loose.

Landing hard on his back, Harry had the breath knocked out of him. Fumbling for his wand, he flew to his feet and surveyed the situation.

"Oops! Clumsy me!" called out Pansy, a vengeful glint in her eye, before she scampered into the crowd and away from the tussle.

Merlin, he hated Parkinson. Figuring he'd find a way to get her later, the Boy-Who-Lived ignored her and focused on the fight. Rushing over, Harry tried to help Draco pry Ron off Zabini while Hermione quickly petrified Crabbe and Goyle to stop them from harming anyone.

However, forcing Ron off the Italian seemed to be the wrong thing to do. Immediately afterward, the Slytherin began throwing spells every which way. Narrowly missing one, Harry was about to retaliate when a loud, gruff voice cut through the dueling.

"ENOUGH!"

The crowd of students – most of whom had been watching eagerly and deflecting spells when needed – parted instantly and began to dissipate at the arrival of Moody.

Deflecting the last spell Zabini shot, which was coincidentally towards him, Mad-Eye sent it hurtling back to the Italian himself. Struck with yet another spell today, he fell back to the ground before boils began to appear all over his face and skin.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN GO AROUND AND START FIGHTS, DO YOU?!" bellowed Moody, running up to the Slytherin and grabbing him by the scruff. "I'll teach you! Away all of you," the Auror added, his magical eye swirling to look at them, "I can take care… of…"

Turning around to see what had surprised him, Harry caught sight of Hermione lying on the ground, Draco beside her.

"Hermione?" choked out Zabini, his eyes wide with shock.

"Take her to the Hospital Wing, Potter!" called out Moody, interrupting the Italian, before almost dragging him away.

* * *

_**Hospital Wing**_

Merlin, her head was _pounding_. Frowning hard, Hermione opened her eyes slowly. Taking in the high, arched ceiling, the blonde registered with relief that she was in the Infirmary.

"Awake?"

Her eyes snapped to a familiar pair of grey eyes.

"Unfortunately. My head's pounding," she groaned, slowly rising into a sitting position. "What happened?"

"You were hit by a _Stupefy_," answered Draco, shifting slightly in his seat. "Pomfrey thinks you may have a slight concussion – nothing serious. Moody has Blaise for that as well as the entire duel."

"Really?" asked Hermione, "Is he alright? Did he get hit with anything?"

"Who cares?" spat the brunet, his eyes narrowing in anger.

Taken aback, the blonde was momentarily at a loss for words.

"It was just a question, Draco," she said slowly, her eyebrows furrowing. "What's gotten you so testy?"

"Nothing," he snapped, earning raised eyebrows from Hermione.

"Do you want to talk–"

"No."

"Alright, fine," she muttered, glaring at him, "I have something else to tell you, then. We have to break into Dumbledore's office. I, at the very least, need the tome _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ which he's kept in his own personal library. Then, we'll be venturing over to Little Hangleton – the town the first horcrux is currently residing in – to destroy it."

Expecting some sort of angry retort, Hermione was surprised when Draco just rolled his eyes and took a deep breath.

"_Of course_ we bloody do."

"What? No protests or wailing?" the blonde asked curiously.

"After these past few years of surprise after surprise?" retorted Draco, raising an eyebrow, "I think I've become desensitized to anything even remotely shocking."

* * *

**GUESS WHAT I FOUND OUT. **A few weeks ago, I came to find that the word "brunette" actually has a masculine form. It's "brunet"! Isn't that crazy? Jeez, I wish I knew that sooner. I went through every chapter and changed any mention of "brunette" to "brunet" when needed. It took _hours_. On another note, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter! I promise you, I'm always writing/revising/tweaking something having to do with this story while I wait for my beta to read over what I've sent her, so never ever think that I'm not doing anything. I'm almost halfway finished with the next chapter and can't wait for you all to read it. If I could, I'd send all my amazing reviewers kitties: _nicolejellybean, Guest, Lupinara, KathrineZabini, fourthingsandalizard, JasminMalfoy6, TamariChan, pipitoo, BrittanyKay1994, NSteph2883, Dianna, EAnnajeRETURNS, LiesTemptHer, Iceflight12787, Hair Like Starlight, Daninicole86, midnight shadow of darkness, Raposo Gabriela, Baby kitty crook, princesspay10, Hermione's conscience, Atlantean Diva, MiraObMalfoy, meli, LittleMissHugALot, ShadowKissedGallagherGirlLexia, Justy13, The Last Poison Apple, Artemis Of The Golden Distaff, Kat-Knife, flaming-twilight, SashaStorm97, ArtemisGoddess, Bianca the crazy slytherin, Squidchan, JuliaLestrange, SideshowJazz1, jfang465, oXxgeorgiaxXo, Loveable Leo, Ringo Hime_. **  
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	24. No Easy Way

**Chapter 24 – No Easy Way**

* * *

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling. That includes any scenes I may have derived or paraphrased from the original text.

* * *

_**Great Hall – 09/09/1994**_

"I'm _starving_," announced Ron, a hungry glint in his eye as he sat down and appraised the food.

Hermione sat across from him, Harry next to her, as she stared with a mixture of disgust and amusement at the redhead, who didn't appear to be chewing his food before swallowing.

"House-elves make this you know," she declared, glaring at the food.

"Oh not with _that_ bloody rubbish again," moaned Draco, digging into his breakfast eagerly. "You're spoiling my appetite."

"House-elves?" questioned Harry, grabbing a few pieces of toast and jam.

"Oh yes," she began ranting while glaring at Draco. Although Harry hadn't given much thought to S.P.E.W. in her original timeline, it didn't mean all was lost. She could at least instill a little support now while she had the chance, regardless of the fact that her stay here was a temporary one.

_**If**__ it's a temporary one_, she thought glumly.

"It's one of the few things _Hogwarts, A History_ neglected to mention – slavery," she continued, shoving that upsetting thought to the furthest recesses of her mind. "That's what this is. _Slavery_."

"But your family…" he began curiously, locking eyes with hers, "They're all very uh… pro-elf enslavement, aren't they?"

Draco snorted into his morning pumpkin juice as Hermione deflated slightly.

"Unfortunately," she finally replied. "My father's behavior towards House-elves, such as Dobby," she added for extra emphasis, "has always been one of my leading motivators when it comes to S.P.E.W."

"_Spew_?" spit out Ron unceremoniously as bits of food flew out of his mouth, causing everyone to flinch. Sadly, that was the only decipherable word he said from then on. "Wha' ki' o' yame i' tha'?"

Draco sniggered.

"Chew your food, Ronald," admonished Hermione, shooting him a severe look.

Swallowing, Ron glanced at her, utterly stupefied.

"_Spew_?" he iterated incredulously, exchanging a look with Harry – Draco was too busy hiding his laughter unsuccessfully to look at him, or anyone else for that matter. "What kind of name is that?"

"It's not '_Spew'_," Hermione grimaced, making air quotes at the mention of the hated term for her future foundation. The blonde had to take a deep breath to calm herself. _It's just Ron._ She didn't need to get worked up about this. "It's _S.P.E.W._ – the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare–"

"You're bloody odd for a Malfoy, Hermione–"

Draco was outright laughing now and the former-Gryffindor flushed with anger.

"Shut _up_, Draco," she hissed before turning to look at the redhead. "Ron," she addressed calmly, taking another deep breath to keep her from strangling someone, "I'm not like my father and am much more active when it comes to the world around me. I am not prejudiced, nor am I deceptive… I hope that, in time, you will begin to understand this–"

Slamming his hand down repeatedly on the table, Hermione was interrupted quite rudely by Draco, who had turned red in the face from his laughing. Ron was eyeing her rather weirdly now.

"You sound like a bloody _Ministry letter_," gasped Draco, tears leaking from his eyes.

Ready to blow her top, Hermione glowered at the brunet before screaming four words that she regretted immediately.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

The entire Hall fell silent, Harry choked on his food, Ron's mouth dropped, Draco grinned smugly, and the blonde – to her complete and utter dismay – was promptly given detention for the weekend by a very shocked and angry Professor Snape.

* * *

_**10/30/1994**_

"Sirius is meeting you?" asked Hermione curiously, "When?"

"Soon," muttered Harry, fingering his scar absentmindedly, "I don't know if I've told you, Hermione, but–"

"It's your scar, isn't it? It's hurting again," she said, her eyes roving his face. Her closest friend looked drained. "Oh, Harry! I'm sorry!" she cried, before enveloping him in a tight hug. Hermione would give anything to have Harry live a normal life. He'd gone through so much. They all had.

"Hermione," came his voice, muffled by her hair, "Everyone's staring."

"Oh, right," she unlatched herself and looked around to see a few people eyeing her suspiciously, completely missing the pink tinge that covered the Boy-Who-Lived's cheeks. She nearly growled at them and they turned away quickly.

"What? No sentimental hug for me?" asked a voice dripping with mockery.

Hermione didn't need to look to know who was speaking.

"After the weekend's worth of detention you gave me?" asked Hermione, trying hard not to blush at the reminder of their embrace at the end of last year. "You'd sooner get another slap."

"I wasn't the one who used foul language," pointed out Draco, purposefully sitting down next to her at the Gryffindor table, "That was all you. Besides, that was almost two months ago. Don't you think it would be more rational of you to just let it go?" he asked innocently.

"Yeah," agreed Ron, his words hard to make out because of the food in his mouth, "it's not like Draco _Imperiused_ you."

"But he was goading me on!" shot back Hermione irritably, violently throwing food on her plate. "He always bloody goads–"

"It's not my fault you have such a _dirty_ vocabulary," drawled Draco, a nasty smirk on his face.

"Excuse me?" she asked shrilly, turning to glare at him, "You're the one always throwing around horrid words like it's no big deal–"

"Are you claiming I'm a bad influence to you, Hermione?" asked the brunet slyly.

"Shut up!" she snapped, turning back to her food, "You're not influencing me in any respect whatsoever–"

"I can tell that I'm not. I mean, look at how flustered you are," he replied cheerily, "that can't possibly be _my_ influen–"

"I have to go to the library!" Hermione announced, standing up abruptly and walking away.

"But you didn't eat!" called out Draco cheekily.

* * *

_**The Library**_

Hermione was sick of rethinking her feelings for Ron just because Draco had pointed out a few flaws in their relationship. However, no matter how much she tried, it was always lingering within her conscious, popping up and invading her mind at the most random of times. The former-Gryffindor was an odd mixture of sad, confused, and irritated most of the day because of it. She couldn't believe his words had changed something within her. What if he'd been doing it on purpose? Just to screw with her mind? She'd have to admit, that seemed a bit unlikely. Although it took them a little less than four years, Hermione would like to think they'd gotten past a lot of their issues with one another and had become friends, despite the never-ending fighting. No, he was being truthful. She just couldn't seem to figure out _why_.

A throat being cleared jolted the blonde from her thoughts and she focused on her surroundings. She'd been wandering aimlessly through the bookshelves in the library and hadn't been expecting to see anyone. Especially not the person in front of her.

Stiffening from recognition, she froze.

"Blaise?" Hermione breathed.

* * *

_**The Great Hall**_

Draco watched as the blonde stormed out of the hall, a strange feeling of satisfaction washing over him. Turning back to his food, he ignored Harry and Ron's curious eyes.

It had been almost two months since he'd told Hermione she was better off without Weasel and ever since then, he'd wanted to pull his hair out from embarrassment. He had no idea what prompted such a suggestion, or why he'd even felt the compulsion to voice it. Some things were better left unsaid. Although it was mildly interesting to know that Hermione had, indeed, felt something for the other two halves of the Golden Trio, that feeling had vanished after realizing how fucking stupid he'd been for giving her advice in the first place.

He was constantly trying to drum up possible reasons as to why he said anything at all but couldn't come up with an answer he liked. Everything seemed too… _different_. For some reason, he felt like he was stumbling through uncharted territory – it was like he'd crossed a line that night, one that he couldn't really come back from.

Despite all that, he was pleased to find she was aggravated – knowing Hermione, it probably meant that what he said had actually made a difference.

* * *

_**The Library**_

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Surprise flooded through the Slytherin. He wasn't yelling at her or being rude. He seemed… concerned? However, in light of recent events, this didn't make sense.

"Why does it matter?" she snapped, "It's clear to me that you could care less."

Just as she was about to leave, his arm shot out and grabbed hers, halting her stride.

"I didn't _mean_ to hit you with that spell, Hermione."

"That doesn't take away from the fact that you've been acting like an absolute prick!" she replied, wrenching her arm from his grip. "And… and the best part is, I don't even know why! Why do you suddenly hate me? What did I do? Is it because–"

"I didn't cause any serious harm, did I?" he interrupted in a detached, almost _bored_ manner.

"What the bloody hell do you think?" she shot back, her brown eyes narrowing. "If I wasn't alright, I wouldn't be here! I'd be in the Hospital Wing! Besides, you're two months late. If my well-being had really mattered to you, you would have come to see me."

Her mouth dropped when he nodded, seemingly satisfied, before giving her one last fleeting look and leaving.

* * *

_**Dungeons**_

"Do all of you act like this?" whispered Hermione in frustration as she threw her potion's book and notes into her bag, "He just left me _standing_ _there_!"

"And you're choosing to tell me this _why_?" scowled Draco, his eyes flashing to hers.

"Because you were a Slytherin once, weren't you?" she replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Yes, and apparently so are you," he sneered, "Hermione, I don't care–"

Everyone was filing out of the Potion's classroom quickly – the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving soon. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him off to the side.

"You and Blaise were friends, right?" she asked quietly.

"And?" he said curtly.

"Could you explain to me why he's acting like this?"

Draco stared at her for a few moments in silence. She watched hopefully as a conflict raged in his eyes. Soon after, however, frustration replaced the hope she felt.

"If you can't figure it out for yourself, then you're an idiot, Hermione."

* * *

_**Great Hall**_

After standing outside in the biting cold to wait for the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, Hermione was grateful to finally be in the Great Hall. Settling down – to her great discomfort – at the Slytherin table, she focused solely on the new arrivals rather than her house mates.

"Finally sitting with us, Hermione?"

Plopping down unceremoniously next to her was an unimpressed-looking Oberon Malfoy.

"When most of your house abhors you," Hermione began calmly, "it's probably best to make yourself scarce."

"So you decide to sit with _them_?" he nearly hissed, his voice dripping with condescension. "Do you even know how much trouble you'll get into if–"

"They won't find out," she declared quietly, her eyes trained directly on his now. "Not unless you tell them. Don't do it, Oberon. _Don't_."

"I won't have to," he scowled, turning away. "They'll find out eventually. You underestimate how quickly gossip travels… especially gossip as interesting as your friendship with those bloody idiots."

"Just because they're Gryffindors does not make them idiots, 'Ron," she retorted with a frown. "I'll bet if they were in Slytherin, you all would be good friends–"

"Well you bet wrong," he interrupted, glaring at her. "I hate them. Always have, always will. Once upon a time, you did too. If I were you, I'd be careful. If Mother – no, if _Father_ – finds out, you're as good as dead."

"I can handle myself–"

"I'm telling you this because I'm worried about you, Hermione," he said under his breath, turning to look at her meaningfully. "Especially after the Quidditch World Cup… Father will not allow this kind of behavior."

The back of her neck tingled at the ominous tone to his voice. Just as she was about to reply, the blonde felt a rush of air to her right and the familiar smell of musky cologne. Memories from her original fourth year rushed to the forefront of her mind, and momentarily forgetting about her brother, Hermione turned to the man on her right. He was as grumpy-looking as ever with memorable thick eyebrows and a pale, masculine face.

"Hello," he said politely, his Bulgarian accent thick. His dark, familiar eyes roved over her surprised face before flickering to her brother, who had quieted immediately at his presence. "I am Viktor Krum."

The former-Gryffindor heard 'Ron huff next to her before turning away from the two altogether.

"I–"

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most importantly – guests," announced Dumbledore, allowing Hermione time to register the fact that Viktor was sitting next to her. "It is my great pleasure to welcome you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

Immediately, food appeared on the table and everyone dug in.

"Vot is your name?"

"Hermione Malfoy," she replied carefully, helping herself to some bouillabaisse, one of her favorite French dishes. As done in her original fourth year, the House-elves had overdone themselves – _No, overworked themselve_s, she thought disapprovingly – by adding Bulgarian and French dishes in addition to the normal food they ate on a daily basis.

The Bulgarian food immediately drew Krum's eye and she watched as he heaped black pudding and potato salad on his plate. She was shocked, once again, by how much younger he looked. The last time she'd seen him was at Bill and Fleur's wedding… almost five years ago.

_Almost five years ago…_

The hopelessness of her situation struck her at that very moment. Her actual life seemed like a far-off dream. Hermione's throat tightened as she regarded the past four years. Was she ever going to get out? Was she ever going to leave this place? What was this place, anyway? Thinking hard, all Hermione could remember was falling unconscious the night she and Draco had decided to stupidly have the most explosive fight they'd ever had in the Forbidden Forest.

_Was this all a dream, then?_

That was a possibility. She and Draco could be pulled into some sort of intense, magical sleep. The fairy could have bound them together – her magic was unknown and, essentially, unlimited, after all.

_The fairy._

Feeling a surge of anger, Hermione clenched her fists. That fairy had no right to do this to them. If she hadn't decided to play with their lives like this, she and Malfoy wouldn't have been in this position in the first place! This was none of that creature's business! _None at all!_

Thankfully, Parkinson and a few other Slytherins had engaged Krum in conversation, allowing Hermione to wallow in her thoughts. In such deep concentration was she, that when the blonde finally snapped out of it and paid attention to her surroundings, all the members of the judge's panel had been introduced, the Triwizard Tournament explained, and the Goblet of Fire brought out.

Focusing her attention on the scene, the Slytherin watched as Dumbledore tapped the casket three times with his wand – causing the lid to slowly creak open – and carefully unearthed the goblet. It was just as she remembered it – wooden and unremarkable in the slightest, except for the frightening and electric-blue colored flames dancing and filling the cup to the brim.

* * *

_**10/31/1994**_

"Well friends, when one of us wins the tournament, we'll be sure to rub the galleons in your faces," declared Fred triumphantly.

"The aging potion won't work," said Draco dryly, his grey eyes flickering between the three excited men in front of him.

Not missing a beat, the twins sat down on either side of him.

"Oh yeah?" asked Fred as he pushed Ron out of the way and sat next to the brunet. "And why not?"

"OI!" cried Ron from his spot on the floor, "Do you _mind_?! I'm trying to eat my bloody breakfast here–"

"No, not at all." The redhead flashed him a grin – his twin taking it upon himself to chide Weasel King on his foul use of language – before turning his attention back to the former-Slytherin.

"Two people have already tried it before," Draco drawled in a bored tone, clearly remembering the Ravenclaw girl and Hufflepuff boy who were both sent to the Hospital Wing to reverse the effects of the aging potion. "A Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff. They're both currently in the Hospital Wing because they aged too much."

There was a slight pause as the twins mulled this over.

"You're a buzz kill, mate," Lee Jordan eventually commented, disappointed.

He shrugged. "Try something more practical, won't you? Dumbledore isn't daft enough to have created that age line if it could be rendered useless by a few aging potions."

"Well, _Almighty One_–" began Fred sourly.

"–what would you suggest?" finished George.

Everyone looked at him curiously.

"It's not like I've actually put thought into this," retorted Draco, rolling his eyes, "I could care less, to be honest."

"Humor us," said the twins in unison, their eyes glinting mischievously.

Draco immediately caught on to the hidden message: _give us an alternative or we'll make your life a living hell._

"Fine," scowled the brunet, immediately deciding that this day was already off to a bad start. "I would say…"

_What would I say?_

Taking a moment to actually think, his mind strayed to one of the most obvious alternatives. It wouldn't work of course, but still. It was an idea, wasn't it? At least the Twin Psychos wouldn't pester him and make him look like a dunce in front of most of Gryffindor house for not having a better suggestion.

"Confound it," he shrugged, his eyes flashing between the three sixth years. "Maybe if you all confound it at the same time–"

The twin Weasels' eyes widened at the idea.

"Maybe you _are_ useful for something, Granger!" George declared, thumping him on the back.

"_Of course_ I'm bloody useful–" he growled.

"If this works, mate," whispered Fred conspiratorially, "I swear, we will reward you."

"You better!" called out Draco as the three practically skipped out of the hall with glee. No doubt they were going to try his idea out during class to avoid being caught.

* * *

Nervous anticipation flooded through Hermione's veins as she walked quickly to the Great Hall. It was time for the Triwizard Champions to be selected and all the blonde could think about was Harry; her thoughts were filled with hope for him. She hoped with everything she had that he would not be selected, that Barty Crouch Jr. was not impersonating Moody, and that she wouldn't have to spend the entire year worrying about his safety. It wasn't so much the tasks that were consuming most of her worries at this point – it was Voldemort. He was planning something sinister… just the thought of it caused a shiver to run down the former-Gryffindor's spine. She and Draco would have to be on their guard from now on, especially when destroying the horcrux in Little Hangleton. She'd been trying to find an appropriate time to do so, but Dumbledore hadn't been too busy in the beginning of the year and she didn't want to risk breaking into his office and getting caught. Perhaps now, with the tournament underway, he'd be otherwise occupied.

Her insides were churning violently as they all waited for the first name to shoot out of the goblet. Everyone was holding their breath as tension, nervous anticipation, and excitement hung thick in the air – it was nearly tangible, much like the damp caress of humidity on a hot summer's day.

The flames of the goblet suddenly turned a violent crimson color as a loud hissing filled the air.

_Any moment now…_

Hermione's mouth went dry as a large tongue of flame exploded from the top of the goblet and a small sheet of parchment flew down. A few gasps echoed from around the Great Hall at the spectacle.

"The champion for Durmstrang will be…" Dumbledore paused as he opened the folded sheet of parchment, "Viktor Krum!"

Cheering and applause – particularly from Viktor's half-mad fan base of giggling, idiotic girls – bounced loudly throughout the hall. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I knew you had it in you, Viktor!" roared Karkaroff, a giant smile on his face as the Quidditch player made his way to the front and out of sight.

The Great Hall quieted immediately when the goblet turned red once more. Moments later, Fleur was crowned the champion for Beauxbatons and thunderous applause and whistling met the announcement as the Veela glided to the front of the hall and out of sight.

Her stomach nearly leaped out of her body when the students calmed down once more. Quickly sitting on her hands – which, by now, were visibly shaking – Hermione closed her eyes and fought to keep her breathing even.

_In… out… in… out…_

Hearing the tell-tale crackle of the flames, the blonde opened her eyes to see Dumbledore catch a small slip of parchment in his hands.

"And the champion for Hogwarts is…" trailing off, the headmaster opened the slip of paper.

The first thought that shot through Hermione's head was that he was taking too long. _Entirely_ too long. Cedric's name was on the slip of paper, it _had_ to be. As the silence continued, the former-Gryffindor felt panic swirl through her body. Something was wrong…

"The champion for Hogwarts is… Harry Potter."

The blonde swore under her breath as a silence even more tense than before washed through the Great Hall. Hermione, along with the rest of the students, turned to look at the Boy-Who-Lived in shock. Harry was sitting rigidly in his seat, his eyes wide and fixed in astonishment on Dumbledore.

_What about Cedric?_

"Over here, Harry! Hurry now!" called out Dumbledore.

The blonde watched in dismay as her best friend slowly rose from his seat and trudged towards the front of the hall. Harry looked like he was in a trance or dream – an incredulous look on his face.

Somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind, she knew he'd get picked once more. It was wishful thinking that he wouldn't, although, the blonde was curious as to why his name was put into the goblet in the first place. If Voldemort was planning something different, wouldn't that mean that Harry was more or less exempt from the tournament? Unless… unless he meant to have Harry portkeyed over to the graveyard once again…

It was possible and, now that Hermione thought about it, more than likely to be true. That meant that, somehow, Voldemort was still planning to be resurrected with Harry's blood in his system.

_But how?_

Lucius would never go as far as to give _his own hand_–

Just as Dumbledore was about to finish up the solemn night, the Goblet of Fire acted up once more, it's embers burning a brilliant red as another flame shot into the air.

Hermione swallowed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Looking over to Draco, she saw that he was watching the exchange frigidly – his body erect and his eyes wary. He was just as confused as she was.

_What's going on–?_

Turning her head to watch Dumbledore like a hawk, the blonde noticed the grave look on his face as he clasped the sheet of parchment in his hands.

As he opened it, Hermione watched as his face grew pale and weary. Her heart thudding exponentially, the blonde prayed it wasn't who she thought it was. The coincidence would be unbelievable…

_No. It can't–it won't–_

Clearing his throat, Dumbledore looked up once more, his sharp gaze locking onto the Gryffindor table… onto _him_.

Time seemed to come to a pause for Hermione as one more name was called out into the severe, stifling silence. The one name she _prayed_ wouldn't be said… a name that she was not prepared for – that no one was prepared for. Despite this – despite how horribly high the odds were stacked that his name would not be uttered from her Headmaster's mouth – her prayers were whispered in vain.

"_Draco Granger_."

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**DUN DUN DUN. **Cookies and hugs for all of my lovely reviewers: _S, Mutsuko Kuga, LiL-Princess-Of-Death, Amber611, Hermione's conscience, efl614, dormientemdraco, AliceSherlockHolmes, The Last Poison Apple, Guest, iluvaqt, , kitkat, DH4EVER, ArtemisGoddess, princesspay10, Artemis Of The Golden Distaff, JuliaLestrange, Bianca the crazy slytherin, BelleBelles, Squidchan, SashaStorm97, Black snake eyes, Jordanna Alexandra, oXxgeorgiaxXo, Lupinara, Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini, Guest, LittleMissHugALot, Atlantean Diva, ShadowKissedGallagherGirlLexia, RingoHime, Laura-Ella, flaming-twilight, SideshowJazz1, Kat-Knife, Iceflight12787, Hufflepuff's Princess, Zann Steves. _FYI, you all are beautiful people, and I adore every single one of you (that goes for reviewers and all you silent readers!) I wish we could all convene somewhere and just have a big group hug and talk Dramione and how awesome HP is. That is seriously a dream of mine. I'd probably cry or something sentimental like that. **  
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_Question: Who do you think is responsible for placing Draco's name in the goblet and why?_

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